Raven
by OneMagician
Summary: AU setting in after 3.1: Henry and Emma are in NY, and something wicked is coming for them. The Enchanted World is teeming with ogres and full of dangers for the FTLers. A little girl called Raven is all that stands between them and obliteration. Be very careful what you wish for now, dearie – it might come true... A lot of Rumbelle. Cover by Emilie Brown
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything OUAT here. **

**Only the character _Raven_ is a figment of my "unleashed imagination". Have as much fun reading this as I did with the writing...**

1.

Emma opened the door and looked about the corridor warily. She had to be sure the nut was gone before she let Henry out of the apartment.

"Mom!" he urged from behind her, shouldering his backpack and pulling at his scarf. "We're gonna be late!"

"Yeah? Since when have you been in such a hurry to get to school, kid?" she inquired, since Henry had always been the one to delay them in the mornings up to now. She was still busy looking about for badly shaved whackos in frilled shirts and black leather coats. If she had been looking at Henry, she would have seen him casting his eyes downward anxiously. He seemed nervous about something. But he was not going to tell her. He would figure this out by himself. After all, he was twelve now, and he couldn't bear the thought of having his Mom think he wasn't handling himself. If he told her, she might even go and humiliate him by walking him today. That would just make matters worse, he decided.

"You got a date before class or something?" she insisted, finally turning her attention halfway towards him again.

Henry shook his head. "No, I'd just like to get there." Before Luca and Louis (Pinky and Brain to his mind) were headed in the same direction, he added without saying it. They had been terrorizing him for days now, and he wanted to avoid running into them whenever possible. Chances were, they would not be out yet, because they were, infact, early. He might get to school without being disgraced today.

Emma raised her eyebrows at the obviously feigned smile he was putting on now, but she wanted to put it out of her mind for the moment. He had been behaving a little odd in general lately. Since he had started locking the bathroom door, she had assumed that he was just heading towards acne. And all the other fabulous things that went along with that. She had realized this was coming, having caught an interesting conversation before the last back-to-school night she'd attended, as two other mothers had been lamenting about their daughters' cellphone bills. Right now, she had other things to worry about than her son's sudden affection for privacy and punctuality. She had resolved to give him some space in these things and not become one of _those_ mothers.

Emma decided that they would be taking the elevator because it was already there. She hit the button and they were going down. Tensely she waited for the doors to open on the first floor, but when they did, she could see no sign of any drunken sailor. Her initial thought had been that the guy in her apartment must have been left over from some pirate theme-party the night before. He probably was, because he definitely had smelled of some serious boozing for seven a.m. She couldn't believe he'd tried to kiss her. She told herself he'd simply gotten the wrong door – who knew which of her female neighbors he'd really been meaning to molest. This, too, she'd have to try to get out of her head today. She was due right in for two hearings and a whole lot of paperwork later on.

No Jack Sparrow skulking outside the building either. Everything was as it should be, she was relieved to discover. She pecked an awkward Henry on the cheek and briefly watched him hurry down one direction before she hailed a cab to go in the other. The old VW had finally given up last fall, and she hadn't thought of replacing it, not yet feeling the need to. They were getting around town without it. And Henry needed a lot of stuff lately. He was always growing out of things and she'd finally had to give in and buy him a netbook of his own at for Christmas. She didn't look back and couldn't see him turn tail, as two boys twice his size chased him through the street.

They must have been waiting for him, Henry guessed, as they called and jeered after him. He knew he was faster when he had a small head start, but he was just running in the wrong direction for school, and he was definitely going to be late – again. He had no idea where he was going, but he was going to have to shake them off and double back, so Mrs. Muller wouldn't try to call his Mom again. She already had twice. He'd deleted the messages she'd left on their answering machine. Emma was bound to find out, but he was buying time.

Most of the smaller shops in the neighborhood were still closed – except for the new one. The one with all the junk in the dirty window. He'd been looking at it in passing for over a week now, wondering at the broken toys and old tools on display – by mistake perhaps, having been left there waiting to be cleared out by some really sloppy handymen. But the dark interior of this least-likely-to-prosper business had never lit up for customers. Until this morning. Henry saw that the old, flakey framed glass door stood ajar as he came within sight, the red tin sign reading "open". It, too, had probably been turned over by mistake, but he decided to take his chances and hide in the shop for a few minutes until he could be sure that the older boys had given up.

He was not very surprised to find himself alone, and he had a funny feeling about that, but he decided to go as far back into the small dusty shop as he would dare to anyway. He crouched behind one of the low empty shelves, where he could keep an eye on the door. Henry was watching that door so intensely, that he didn't hear the old man until he stood right next to him and bent down, a puzzled expression on an ancient, marked and wrinkled face.

Geppetto could not believe his luck. Or was it fate? He'd found Henry. Or Henry had found him. And he would be going back.


	2. Chapter 2

2.

Twelve years of hardship were behind her, and twelve years more would follow, her mother had predicted soberly. She had no cause to question this.

Her name, Raven, had been given to her by her older brother, who had told her it was because she ate the fouling scrap no one else would touch and slept sitting up with her head lying on her shoulder. Her short life in this cursed forest had held nothing but misery and sorrow. The girl's shaggy black hair was felted and unwashed, her face and hands encrusted with dirt. All she had to wear was a threadbare old gown of her deceased grandmother and a filthy, tattered shawl, both more or less held together on her scrawny body by a greasy bit of rope around her middle into which she had stuck a collection of black feathers. She was accustomed to adding to it each time she found a new one. Her sore-covered feet were wrapped in rags against the snow and cold.

"Good-for-nothing" was the name her father had had for her. "Get out of my sight, you stupid good-for-nothing!" he had shouted at her whenever he had seen her around, throwing rocks at the girl and enforcing his words with the occasional beating on his very bad days. His harsh voice, a mere memory, still rang in her ears as she swiftly pelted through the small clearing in the woods, heart pounding, occasionally slowing as her eyes searched the sky, hoping beyond hope.

Raven's mother had never dared to talk back or disagree with the man who had fathered her eight children. Yet she had not shown the least bit of grief or regret the morning they had discovered him unaccounted for. He had left them, taking with him the last of their milo and the last of their fat. Raven had thought it a fair price to pay for being free of him. They had all been slowly starving for so long now that this was only accelerating the inevitable. It had been worst on the youngest of them, a baby boy, screaming and screaming every night in his despair.

Raven had spent all of her twelve years in this cruel world being hungry, even before the curse. There was no work for homeless day laborers in winter, and no money to buy flour in summer after her father had taken their wages to the inn. Strangely, she wasn't sure if she was hungry now: the hunger pangs had subsided, and she actually felt that she was over the worst of it. Maybe one day you just got so used to it, that it stopped. Just then, she thought she caught a glimpse of the large black birds she'd been following in the sky above her, and her heart skipped a beat as she jumped, waving and crying out frantically, "I'm here! I'm here!"

The ravens never seemed to hear her when she called out to them as they soared across the skies. They continued on their way relentlessly, ever further and further away from where they had left her standing with their mother, looking up. They had never looked back at her, and maybe they never would, but she followed them all the same.

She had to rest for a moment, she thought, stopping to catch her rattling breath. It left steamy puffs lingering in the icy air as she stood clasping her hands to her hips. She thought back to the day the baby had stopped crying, as she always did when exhaustion or the dark forced her to stop running.

Her mother and she had been digging the frozen ground for grubs and roots when one of the boys had come running. "Mama! Mama! You have to come!"

They had found the child barely breathing anymore, a bundle of bones in a pile of cloth and ratty old furs under the shelter of a low makeshift pine-branch panoply. They had all been doing their best to trap small animals and gather what the forest would surrender to a human stomach, but there hadn't been an ounce of fat left on his tiny undercooled body, and his nose had gained the pointy look of death that Raven had seen before on her grandparents earlier this winter. His face was so very pale and still that it reminded her of one of the white marble gargoyles they had once seen in passing on the battlements of an old ruined castle.

Her mother had taken the little boy into her arms and wailed. She would never forget the terrible sound of her mother's crying. Snowflakes had begun to drift down from the heavens, and Raven had thought that her brothers would have been better off had they been born ravens instead of her. Ravens always found food, and when they didn't, they just made do. They took so many beatings that they couldn't feel the strikes anymore. Ravens were free of all of this human anguish.

"Careful what you wish for," a low, lulling voice had whispered in her ear just at that moment. "Death can be a merciful friend."

She had spun around in panic, just in time to see a beautiful slender woman with dazzling blonde hair in rich blue and green satin robes blending back into the trees. She didn't know that this had once been a fairy named Maleficent. When she turned back to her mother, she had at first only seen the look of utter shock on her aged face. Then she had taken in the six black ravens perched on the ground all around them where her brothers had just stood. A seventh smaller one had been peeking out of the rags in her mother's arms.

They had stood as though petrified for several heartbeats, before her mother's features suddenly smoothed out, her initial horror melting away from it like frost from a leaf in the sun. She held her bundle up, and for a moment Raven thought she was going to batter it to the ground. But instead, she flung it up into the air. "Fly!" she commanded it firmly. "Fly away and never come back!" At that, the whole flock took to its wings, crowing hoarsely, as it rose high above their heads. The ravens circled several times, and then began to take a direction, as Raven screamed.

The terrible, mad laughter of her mother had echoed in her ears as she had begun to run. She was not going to be left behind, she had decided. She was going to find her brothers and beg their forgiveness. She would follow them to the ends of the earth, she had vowed.

Maybe she had reached the ends of the earth, she thought, as she let herself slide to her knees under an ancient gnarled red beech, wiping her runny nose on her sleeve. But maybe she just needed a snatch of sleep, a few precious moments so she could go on and find out. At that, she more toppled over than lay down onto the frozen ground, not feeling the biting cold. She watched as the ravens soared, circling gracefully in the sky above. They knew she was here. They had known all along. They would wait for her.

"Hey!" Robin Hood called to the girl from a few feet away. He had been following her, but she didn't seem to hear him at all, now mesmerized by a glance at the ravens' dark beauty. She closed her eyes, intending not to dream, but only store away the memory of this moment in her heart.

When Robin found her, she was, infact, dreaming. But he couldn't wake up, try as he might. He picked up the filthy haggard child and called to John to bring him a blanket.


	3. Chapter 3

3.

Belle was still sound asleep, tangled in the sheets of their bed. Rumpelstiltskin stood at the window of their room just after sunrise, holding the dagger to the daylight. He had been trying to convince himself all night that he would find he'd been mistaken. To his dismay, he saw that he had not. There it was.

His heart sank and his stomach knotted as he closed his eyes for a brief moment, swaying in his wretchedness. He should have known. This was something he could have prevented, even last night, and he would have, if he'd had the slightest, most remote wisp of a premonition. Yet it was done, and he had no idea how to undo it.

There had to be a way. He had to find out how final this was. There had always been reasons not to think about it for as long as his own name had been etched into the long silver blade, so he had just not been looking hard enough, he told himself. In the end, it would probably boil down to destroying the dagger, if he could not find any other solution. He would not be having any qualms with that, though.

Rumple had hidden the dark artefact from Belle's sight the moment he had seen its new inscription, telling her that all was well with as much conviction as the situation demanded. She hadn't quite believed him, but she had accepted his apparent need for reticence in this matter – for the moment. Belle was used to his secrets. She had always been able to bear with him until he was ready to share – though he did not for the life of him know how he would ever be able to share on this one.

Having seen the way old magic had its way with the world, he was sure that the name written on the blade was there to be the fulfillment of some deed yet to occur. The nature of this deed was also quite obvious to him, but he was dead certain that this could be ruled out. It was totally unthinkable, and even if it had been, it would not come to pass. Never.

So actually, there was no need to rush things, he tried to tell himself, as he carefully wrapped the heavy blade back into his shirt again. He opened one of the floorboards under the rug beside the bed with a slow wave of his hand. At least this was still working for him. There would be enough magic left to get through the things that urgently needed his attention during the next days and weeks. He was relieved to find he was not totally helpless, as he slid the dagger into the narrow space. This kind of hidey-hole would not do in the long run, but it would have to suffice for the day.

Belle was just waking up as he rolled the loosely woven runner back into place. He decided to get back into bed with his wife for just another minute. He needed to hold her again before this day began. Having, for reasons of his own, given a great deal of thought to her perception of the brevity of life and the way things tended to take unexpected turns on them both, he was more than willing to comply with her wish for more intimacy.

She turned to face him and stretched herself lazily against him. He loved the way she did that, and he wrapped his arms around her, drawing her closer. She still seemed sleepy, blinking at him, but then she kissed him so deeply and, to him, truly magically, that it made him feel like he was actually worth her while. He had realized how desperately he needed her and how badly he wanted her – all of her – the moment he had allowed himself to touch her last night in the library. He hadn't been able to stop touching and holding her since, needing the direct physical connection between them, as though it might override everything he was denying over and over again in his mind.

Her kiss was testimony to what she felt for him, and she had _redeemed_ him by breaking a curse that had imprisoned him within himself for hundreds of years, granting him power beyond belief and immortality to match, while at the same time robbing him of everything that a real _life_ was made of, everything that love lived of. Of course, he had made his own choices, doing an exceedingly splendid job of paving his own path to hell… but Belle was a blessing he didn't deserve, and he would never understand how she could love him. Yet she did. It was not alright that she was here with him. As long as she was though, he was going to love her with all his might and in every way he could in the time they would be given.

He breathed in her scent as he ran his hand through her long soft hair, letting it wander over her bare shoulder and down her back as she pressed against him, all warmth and tenderness. He wanted to stay caught in this moment forever, but finally had to acknowledge that the castle around them was waking up, so he carefully pulled away, ever so gently. There were things he needed to find out, especially from her, before he spoke to anyone else.

She looked at him in bewilderment for a moment before she realized that they needed to get up. They were not alone here, and there would be need for talk. She had wanted to put it off, minute by minute, but the sun was up, and this night was over. Regretfully, she stroked his cheek and watched him, as he closed his eyes, pressing his face to her hand. "I know," she said softly.

"You do," he replied. "I know you do."


	4. Chapter 4

4.

Henry wasn't sure if he was in trouble there, cowering behind his shelf in the dust. He was sure to make a funny impression on anyone who might be looking, let alone the owner of the premises he was probably out and out trespassing on. He felt a bit ridiculous now, looking up at him.

The old man hovering over him had an edgy and battered look about him. To Henry's relief, he didn't seem upset or ready to call the cops on him. He was smiling down at him reassuringly as he presently raised a questioning eyebrow at him, tilting his head in an odd manner. "Well, boy? Who are you hiding from?"

Henry's eyes narrowed, his insecurity creeping through again. He hadn't ever been in the habit of hiding from anyone before he'd gotten himself into this mess with Pinky and Brain. Nothing much had happened, and even that hadn't been his fault. He'd simply tripped on Brain's sports-gear in the school cafeteria, knocking his tray into _himself_ while spilling just a little of his drink on the bigger boy's bag. There hadn't really been much damage to the bag, but he'd been the laughing stock of the entire school and the two of them hadn't left him alone ever since.

He did what he always did whenever he was asked any kind of a question nowadays and cleared his throat, casting his eyes downwards to avoid looking at the man before he got to his feet. "I... um, no one," he stammered, quickly glancing at the door. "I should be going…"

Gepetto backed off, raising his palms and huffing, seeming to agree. He had straightened his back with some difficulty, Henry noticed as he headed towards the door. He wondered how old this man must really be. Just then, Henry's most favorite seniors came bounding into the shop, the two of them grinning broadly at their triumph after having nearly bowled Geppetto over. Henry stopped dead in his tracks. Great, he thought, just great.

"Watch it there," the old man demanded sternly, drawing himself up and knitting his brows. Henry thought that the white haired man had looked more than a bit frail at first glance, but he was astonished to find that this same man was now physically cajoling the taller of the two boys back quite firmly, having assessed the situation correctly. Geppetto had suddenly gained an air of authority, and the boys were beginning to lose their poise. Apparently, appearance _was_ everything.

Pinky and Brain frowned at each other, trying to decide on a tactic. "We… we were just..." one of rambled.

"Ya, ya, I get it," Geppetto impatiently cut in, rolling his eyes, gesticulating and pointing his finger first at the boys, then at the door. "You go take yourselves out of my shop and off to school already, now fellas. We're not open yet." He shoved them out of the door and closed it firmly behind them, jingling a bell that reminded Henry of some old movie he had once seen – or something. You didn't get many bells on shop doors in New York these days, at least not around here.

"Do you want to tell me what that was, son?" Geppetto asked mildly, turning back to Henry and tilting his head again slightly in his strange way.

Henry actually thought about it for a second. It might be nice to tell someone that wasn't his _Mom_, and he had helped him, after all. Still, he decided to keep it to himself. He didn't know this man. "I'm sorry," he stumbled, edging gingerly around Geppetto towards the door again. "I shouldn't have come in here. I gotta get to school."

"As you wish," Geppetto shrugged, waving a hand at him, "but don't be sorry, you must have had your reasons." He looked at Henry very intensely, seemingly caught up deep in some thought for a moment before moving away from the door and retreating to the dusty counter in the corner. Henry nodded at him gratefully, smiling faintly, as the old man got out a rag and started to wipe down one of the scratched glass surfaces with it.

"What are you going to sell here, anyway?" Henry suddenly thought to ask before leaving.

"Oh, this and that. Mainly useful items. The kind you can repair, because they are made of _real_ things," Geppetto smiled, his eyes lighting up. "Wooden things."

Henry wondered about that, looked around one more time and still not seeing it. He decided it was way past time to try to get to school and was already opening the door when Gepetto called him back. "Wait a minute. I may not have opened my shop yet, but I do have an opening present for you, since you are the first to come in and see me." The old man bent over behind his counter and started rummaging around. "Now, where did I put it...?"

"You don't have to give me anything", Henry objected, but took a few steps back into the aisle anyway, curious at what might be concealed behind the old fashioned counter.

Geppetto took out a large, flat package wrapped in a white linen cloth and tied up with a length of old parcel string. "There you go," he smiled, pushing the package into Henry's hands. Henry was puzzled. He'd been expecting a key chain, a bumper-sticker or maybe a pocket light. This was one big opening present.

"This is too much," he said gently, offering his prize back, thinking he didn't want to take anything that might be too expensive from this man.

"No, no, no," Geppetto insisted. "You take that with you and open it when you're home. It's my gift to you, so don't offend me."

Henry smiled up at him brightly, a hint of the boy the old man had known just a short few weeks ago in Storybrooke peeking through. Henry had a rough idea of what kind of item might be in the package, and he thought he would enjoy it, no matter what was written on its cover. He loved books.

Geppetto watched thoughtfully as the boy left his shop, waiting for some of the burdening weight to be lifted from his shoulders. But it didn't appear to want to shift, even now. He finally went to the door and relocked it sadly, still hoping that this was all going to work out for the best. He had played his part, after all, and he'd done what had been asked of him. Now, there was no more he could do. It was all up to the book now.

The book was back with Henry again, and Regina had said that the magic would return. He himself was quite sure of it, because it had before – once upon a time, when Henry had had that book. He silently said a little prayer as he turned to the aged wooden puppet of a little boy sitting still in the shop's window display, but to his dismay, Pinocchio remained as he was.

"Well done," Regina told him as she emerged from the back room of the store. She sneered at him as though he was an imbecile to be humored. "You've kept your word – even if it was rather coincidentally."

"Just give me back my son now," he murmured softly, a tear tracing its way down the side of his battered face. "Just do as you promised."


	5. Chapter 5

5.

"I need to know how you opened the vault," Rumple asked Belle. He was sitting beside her on the corner of their still warm bed, holding both of her hands in his. His boots lay untidy at his feet on the rug, and he hadn't quite yet finished dressing for the role he would be playing today. He was thinking that if he had taken any more time with it, she might have left the room before he'd got his answer in private.

Belle had been quicker than he, already wearing a plain but elegant blue dress made from a good heavy woven cloth. The matching embroidered cape was bundled over her knees, and she was all ready to face the day and the people that were probably waiting for them at this moment.

He wasn't – not quite. He had taken time to choose his wardrobe carefully, well aware that he would have to put in a strong and unyieldingly dark appearance to the well over a hundred men, women and children of diverging descent that he knew to be within the walls of his castle this morning. More were probably on the way, and he would have to redefine himself to most of them.

There was a lot to consider, and he was determined to understand the big picture so that he could get to participate in shaping it. He would certainly not be selling hedge charms for the years that he had left, and he needed to be in the position of putting these years to clever use, for Belle and for himself.

Since Rumple had already hinted that something felt off to him about her being able to open the vault, Belle knew she would have to tell him about the baby before someone else did. Diverting this particular conversation onto a different path or putting it off in general would not be a good idea. Red or Snow might assume she would have already told Rumple and blunder, and he didn't deserve that. It was not the best of timing, she thought, looking at him and taking in his black dragonleather outfit. Would there ever be such a thing, though?

Here goes, she told herself, doing her best to hold his gaze. "Blood magic." She stressed the final sound of the word "magic" in a way that made her feel more safe about it, less controlled by it, as she flicked it from her mouth. Rumple frowned at her slightly, but not in a cross way. He understandably just seemed a bit bewildered, she deduced, pressing her lips together.

"Belle, that wouldn't… well, that _couldn't_ have worked for you…" he tried to explain after a moment's silence, more to himself than to her. Obviously it _had_ worked, but Rumple couldn't think why it would have. He had rigged his vault to work for _his_ blood many years ago so that Bae could open it, should he return and need to, but Belle wasn't related to him. The only explanation would be that his spell had stopped working at some stage – which it never had before, so why yesterday? A lot of things might not be working anymore today in the way that they had before, but _yesterday_?

"It _was_ blood magic," Belle insisted, adding more softly, "because strictly speaking, it wasn't my blood. It was your blood inside me." She watched his face closely and saw that he still wasn't catching on. This really wasn't a good time, but for most people here in this world there would never have been a really good time for news of this kind when it wasn't expected. Still, children had always found their way into the Enchanted World anyway. She took comfort in her certainty that he would have been very happy, had they been back in Storybrooke. Her heart told her so.

Perhaps he could at least accept it for what it was now they were here. Time was always of the essence to this man, and that worked either way that time did. God knew, she had spent weeks thinking about birthing a child into this life during their footslog through the ogre-infested forest alone. So here goes, she thought as she squeezed his hands and tried to keep herself calm. "Rumple," she breathed, "I'm pregnant."

Rumpelstiltskin heard her and understood the words, but he needed a moment to process, so he bit down on his lower lip to keep himself from speaking and saying things he knew he would certainly regret. Nasty old habits.

There were a thousand thoughts racing through his mind, most of them very sinister and very powerful in their way with his soul. He knew he had to keep them down and try to clear his mind of them. This wasn't something to be debated – it was something that was what it was. This was Belle, and she was not just any women, she was his wife. She was his _life_, he told himself. Everything else that had come to pass in the days before was certainly a difficulty to be solved, but Belle was not a _difficulty_. She was the only person in any world he'd ever seen who would stand by him, the man and the monster, the reason he was human again at this moment. And: she was pregnant with _his_ child. He told himself that he had to keep his mind focused on that when he looked her in the eyes. No, he simply demanded that of himself. He'd been guarding the pits of his heart for centuries, and he was appalled now to find that he had to fight to stop his hands from shaking. Rumple felt himself letting go of Belle's hands as his right hand went up to cover his mouth as if all by itself, chafing his chin, and he regretted the gesture in an instant.

Yet Belle still wasn't going anywhere, still wasn't running. She was waiting patiently for his reaction.

He thought back to the illusion of Belle he'd conjured when he'd been in Neverland. The Shadow had created a very convincing image of that illusion. It had offered him a life with Belle's love and a child he had always longed for with her. He might really have chosen to take it, had Regina not interfered. It was what he had so badly wanted with Belle… not here and not now, but he'd wanted it, even dreamed of it as he'd become human again the night before. He told himself that he had to come to terms with the fact that it was done.

Rumpelstiltskin was to be a father again, so he'd just have to find a way to cheat the odds and keep his family safe here. He had a familyagain. A real family, with a woman that loved him and a child that would love him naturally – something he hadn't dared hope for, or dared even _wish_ for. He'd have to work out how to protect them both from the very dark and very powerful things from the forest as well as from those from within himself. The challenge in that being that he would have to figure this out without destroying the second chance he had been granted.

Reattaching his hands to hers, he exhaled, hearing his own heart pounding in his ears, and smiled at her. "That _is_ good news," he reassured her softly, taking in the wave of relief that was flooding her features the instant he'd said it. He shifted a little closer to her, allowing for her radiance to wash over him as well and kissed her hands. There was love, so there would be happiness in this. "I love you," he told her. "And I love the thought of this."


	6. Chapter 6

6.

Raven woke up bedded on a soft cot by the fireplace in Rumpelstiltskin's kitchen. There was a cushion and a warm blanket, and she had been washed. Her hair had been left alone, having been too tangled and grubby to wash without disturbing her too badly, but her face and most of the rest of her had seen soap and water. She felt almost alien and sore in the clean garments she was wearing. They were not really much more than the one she'd had before, and they were scratchy, but not torn or even mended.

If she had known where she had ended up, she might have made an attempt to run for it. As it was, she didn't, and the stories her mother had told them about an evil-minded imp that might turn you into a rat on a whim wouldn't come to mind as she slowly sat up, hugging her legs to herself, looking around. Her eyes didn't take well to the gloom of these roofed indoor dwellings at first.

The fire was already lit – or still going – in the huge open hearth, crackling merrily and keeping her comfortably warm. A large kettle half filled with water hung from a hook on a crossbar over it, telling her that this must be the cookery of some large estate.

She must have died and gone to heaven, she decided, as she finally let her legs drop down the side of the cot to get a better view of the place. The fire was godly; it even kept the stone tiles around the hearth warm. Its dim light revealed a large, massive wooden table and matching chairs in the middle of the room, as well as several equally heavy open counters let into the walls at intervals underneath the glassed windows. A variety of kitchen utensils hung from convenient low rafters just above, and there was a firebrick oven. The polished wood floor was scrubbed and clean, and there was no sign of waste or decay anywhere. This place was lived in by people who had the means of upholding it, she was sure. She wondered if there might even be magic here.

She felt dawn creeping along outside the windows, and soon, there were people coming and going through an arched open entrance at the far end of the kitchen, lighting candles at the table or on the counters and busying themselves with preparing food or other small chores while talking in low voices. She was feeling exposed eventhough no one seemed to be bothered much with her, so she put her blanket back onto the cot and cast a quick glance underneath it. To her dismay, couldn't find anything to put on her bare feet there. It didn't seem to matter right now, and she told herself she'd just make the best of the warmth she still had in her, as she edged over to the nearest door she assumed might lead to the kitchen garden or the scrap tip. She opened it ever so quietly, intent on not overstaying her welcome. Just then, a stout woman put out her hand from behind Raven and pushed the door back into its lock, swiftly placing herself between Raven and the cold.

"Just where do you think you're off to?" Bertha inquired sternly, "You can't go out _there_ like _that_." She pointed at her feet and waited for the child to speak, but Raven wouldn't. She had nothing at all left to say to anyone.

Raven had glimpsed the bitter icy whiteness of the frosted landscape outside the castle through the square glassed window pane in the door, but still wanted out of this strange and wonderful place that, in its affluence, surely held no love for riffraff from the woods. She attempted to squeeze past Bertha and escape through the door that stood between her and her real world, but Bertha was now holding on to her shoulders, telling her that she wasn't letting her leave yet. Raven struggled with all she had to free herself from the bickering woman's tightening grip and pulled at the handle. A slender man in green and brown breeches and a dark cape came to Bertha's assistance, and held her arms to her body, pulling her back as gently as he could while she squirmed and writhed.

Despair began to wrap its cold hard fingers around her heart, closing up her chest. If she was not let out she would not find her brothers again. They might not see that she was not there anymore and move on without her. They'd be lost. _She_ would be lost.

She kicked and howled like an animal, now fighting Robin as he held her and slid them both gently to the floor so that he could hitch one leg over hers, taking the blows and hugging her to himself patiently, sure that her strength would leave her soon enough. He knew they would never be able to keep her here against her will. She would get her way if they didn't resort to tying her up, which he had no intention of, but he wanted to at least try to talk some sense into her. If she was able to understand him, that was. You could never be quite sure with these wild creatures of the woods.

Robin had found her, and now he felt some responsibility for her. Whatever she had been doing to survive out there had not been working for her anymore when she had been lying on the freezing ground. She would have been dead this day, had he not carried her back with him. She couldn't know that, she was just a child, and he didn't expect her to be grateful. Yet he thought that she might just be old enough to value her life to the extent of at least accepting some warmer clothing and footwear when she had calmed down a little.

Raven didn't calm down, but there was a sudden hush in the kitchen, as Rumpelstiltskin and Belle entered. "What's going on here?" Rumple demanded, trying to assess the situation.

"Found her in the woods yesterday," Robin explained quickly. One of the watchmen had told him that Rumpelstiltskin had returned during the night, but the kitchens were the last place he had ever expected to encounter him. He looked up at the Dark One's face and almost lost his grip on the girl. Seeing Gabriel Gold for the first time, next to the one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen, gave him an idea what true love was capable of after all.

He tried not to let on, but Rumple felt Robin's general disquietness and knelt down beside the bowman and the kicking girl, stroking back a strand of her black hair from the girl's eyes so he could get a better look at her. Robin was valuable to Rumple, and he would be needing him in the great hall in a minute, not wrestling a wildling in the kitchen. Whatever this was, it had to be put to and end quickly.

Rumple concentrated and looked into Raven's eyes intensely, intending to use a simple soothing spell, but suddenly found his mind wandering off. He was somehow getting lost in a memory from another life just for a second.

Then it dawned on him. He knew those eyes. He had watched them say farewell to Milah more than four lifetimes ago from the back of a cart heading into the woods. Rumple now knew that they had never seen the end of those woods and never beheld that other kingdom. This was an old soul he was touching on, reborn into a child of this time with no hope. He guessed there had been magic at hand, perhaps even some fairy magic, yet he couldn't quite put his finger on it. This was not the time for a trip down memory lane, he told himself. It would have to wait.

"I know you have somewhere to be, dearie," he breathed softly in Ravens ear, testing another comforting spell, "but you _will_ stay with us for a while."

Raven looked at him firmly and stopped struggling, her lips pressed into a thin line. She wasn't susceptible to any of these spells, and he was forced to acknowledge that. Yet she had the strangest feeling that it might pay off to remain here for a short while – it was an unspoken promise made by an old soul such as she did recognize in him.

Robin let go of her, relieved, rubbing his bruises. Belle had been standing behind Rumple and bent down to the girl in concern just as he rose to his feet. "Stay with her for a moment?" Rumple asked of her. She nodded and decided that this was somehow important enough to let it keep her for a while.

Rumpelstiltskin straightened himself and his gaze found Bertha. "See to it that my wife gets something to eat," he told her before he left, pulling Robin with him.


	7. Chapter 7

7.

Emma was worried. She wasn't just anxious – she was really scared when the school secretary called her cell phone to tell her that Henry hadn't arrived to school. Children didn't just disappear all by themselves. His teacher had tried to reassure her that he was _probably_ just cutting class and that he'd _probably_ be safe at home, watching TV or playing video games. Mrs. Muller had been Henry's teacher for over a year now, but sometimes Emma thought she didn't know him at all. She had also told her that Henry had been late several times during the last weeks – why hadn't she known about this? – but it was well past eleven now, so he wasn't just _late_ anymore. He wasn't getting there at all.

She was thinking that she shouldn't have let him walk by himself this morning. Not after what had happened at the flat before breakfast. This wasn't like Henry. He'd never taken off without telling her where he was going, so why would he do a thing like that today? Something was wrong here, something must have happened to him. What if he'd been abducted by the lunatic that had been at their door?

The elevator was taking way too long, so she took the stairs, racing up two steps at a time and getting a stitch in her side. She was fidgeting with her keys long before she reached her floor and dropped them as she tried to fit them into the lock. Her stomach started cramping. If he wasn't at home she would have to call the police. And they wouldn't be doing much about it.

She pushed the door open and calling, "Kid? Are you home? Answer me!" Of course he didn't. He wasn't there.

Someone else was, though, and it made her heart stop when she realized.

XXXxxxXXX

Henry hadn't been able to shake the feeling that he was being followed earlier. Assuming that it might be his buddies, they would know where he'd be heading – to school or home – so he had decided to sit it out someplace else. He had made his way down towards the library, a place those two had certainly never been to. Ever since he could remember, he'd had a card for the medieval section. Reading about life in the dark ages had always fascinated him, and he'd been here many times. There were even some really cool books about old legends and witchcraft in beautiful ancient leather bindings. That was, strictly speaking, not non-fiction. They got his attention though. Emma kept saying that there was a small truth in every lie, and he tended to believe that. People were always looking for explanations for things that sometimes just didn't have any. Maybe, didn't _need_ any. Things that were, perhaps, _magical_. There was no way that eight billion people on this planet had a word for a thing that simply didn't exist.

Henry got a locker for his backpack and stuffed the cloth wrapper of Geppetto's "opening gift" into it, along with his scarf. He cast a quick glance at the heavy cover binding of his prize and rifled through a few of the richly illustrated pages, smiling. _This_ he was going to enjoy, he thought as he entered the reading room through the old revolving glass doors after checking his book in with the librarian. He could see she had been taken, raising an eyebrow at him. "It was a present from my grandpa," he lied. He'd been doing a lot of that lately, and it became easier every time.

He didn't notice that he had company until Regina sat down next to him.

XXXxxxXXX

"What the hell are you doing here?" Emma screamed, flying at Baelfire, simply dealing with the fact that this really was him after the first shock had worn off. "Where's my son?"

She wasn't sure what this was, but there had to be a connection. She was furious at finding Neal of all people here in her flat, today of all days.

She had thought very thoroughly about the things she would have liked to say to him, over and over before Henry had been born. Imagined meeting him again, a thousand times even after she had gotten out of jail – per chance on a bus, at the grocer's, even on the job. She'd had a hundred conversations with him in her head. The first few dozen had been good and forgiving, healing and ending happily. The last few had been factual, no nonsense, and ended with her walking away from him indifferently. In between that, there had been anger and reproach, sometimes shouting on her behalf, but mostly a cool remissness and well-chosen words she would normally never find. These talks had always ended in his defeat and with her inner marching parade announcing that she was done with him. Because… she was.

He had disappeared from her life almost thirteen years ago, leaving her to take the wrap for a case of watches he'd stolen. At first, she had actually hoped that he'd come and see her in jail, or even write, at least, and that he'd claim he was so sorry. But he never had. He'd simply been gone from her life, vanished without leaving anything – well almost – and continued his own life someplace else. He had most certainly not cared in any way what had become of her.

She'd had one whole year in a correctional facility for women to think about her own naïve stupidity and regret falling for this shady character, who had so obviously been using her. She had been _seventeen_, and he had been, what, a good ten years older. He'd been a cute guy with a wicked smile, whose appearance hadn't changed one bit, she noted. Neal had been her very first love, but she'd had to very painfully discover that he had not loved her back at all, or he wouldn't have taken off. It was done, she'd told herself then, and she'd had to get over him – in jail, and on her own. She did, and that was why _she was done_ with him.

Now, suddenly, here he was again all the same, in her flat, the day her son hadn't made it to school…

Only then did it occur to her that he didn't even know about her son, _their_ son. Or did he? Was that it? Was he here because he wanted Henry? Paranoia had been a persistent companion over the last years, and it had been a good advisor most of the time… "What have you done with my son?"

Baelfire's eyes widened, the look in them not matching the wry smile that still lingered on his lips. "Henry…?" he stumbled, seemingly taken off guard. "Henry's gone missing?" This was a turn of events he had obviously not been expecting, but Emma couldn't know that, he told himself, guessing how this must look.

Emma was horrified. Panic swept over her, and she could hardly breathe. "How do you know his name?" she demanded, her voice barely audible. She was convinced that he _did_ know about Henry. He had to have something to do with this.

Neal shrugged, backing off from her, shaking his head and trying to avoid her eyes. She remembered him and his body-language well enough to know that anything he might say now would not be the truth. Had he ever told her the truth in the time they had been together?

She crossed the space between them warily, hoping that he would not try to insult her intelligence. "Tell me what you've done, or I swear to God I'll kill you."

XXXxxxXXX

"That's a beautiful book you've got there," Regina commented incidentally as she pushed her heavy horn-rimmed glasses back in her nose. She purposely didn't look too hard at Henry, who was slouching across his book over half the depth of the dark polished cherrywood table. He'd grown, and he looked healthy and fine at first glance. His hair was shorter than suited him, and he was wearing all Walmart, but all in all, Emma must have taken good care of her boy, Regina had to admit to herself.

He seemed to be lost in one of the stories, staring at the ornate picture of an unkempt little girl in a winter forest clearing, observing the dark snow filled sky. Regina didn't know this one. She wondered if the Evil Queen was in it, but pushed away the thought. The book had a will of its own, and it didn't reveal all its secrets to just anybody – especially not to her. Henry was the only one who had always been able to access every tale when he'd had a need for it. She hadn't realized its worth at first, but she had come to learn that it was, _in itself_, Henry's very own magic. It was the spark that lit up his heart to believe. He would really _need_ to believe very soon.

Regina had brought several books on storytelling culture, etymology and wiccan mythology to the reading table with her, as well as a pad and a pen, meaning to imply that she had work to do here.

"I like it," he finally replied softly, tearing himself away from the page he was reading, smiling slightly. His eyes narrowed, as he tried to decide on a polite way to avoid further conversation. He couldn't think of one, so he went back to his book, turning the page. The images seemed to come alive in his head. He was staring at an old friend, Regina observed. Rumpelstiltskin was sitting at one end of a long table, and there were a lot of other old acquaintances joining him. A thing she had never in her lifetime expected to see.

"It's special, you know" she continued after a while. "Very special." There it was again: the shy smile she so loved about him. She had been loving it all his life. She had his attention now.


	8. Chapter 8

**A big thank you to the people who stop to review - I'm always glad to get some feedback on what I'm doing. Particularly Cynicsquest is being a great and very hard-working, patient sounding-board here, which is helping to evolve my stories and doing me a world of good.**

**Hope you have fun with this one, dearies...**

8.

Rumpelstiltskin was pleased with himself, but there wasn't a whiff of smugness about him. He had done the important dealings before most of the realm's nobility had taken their seats at his long antique banqueting table in the great hall. There wasn't really much left on the agenda by midmorning.

The Enchanted World's elite didn't look quite their provenance anymore after this year's winter-wood survival adventure, but _he_ certainly played his part; dark, powerful and forbidding, yet not quite menacing in the way that he might have appeared thirty years ago. He was putting out everything that he said and did in extremely deliberate, controlled and slow motions. The years of being Gabriel Gold had taught him invaluable lessons in quiescence. He knew he wouldn't be losing his temper with any one present here today, because this was _his_ game, and they were playing on _his_ field. He was playing for Belle and for his children – both of his children.

The Charmings had been somewhat puzzled at his human appearance, perhaps assuming he actually had influence on it. He could tell they were wondering, but neither of them said a word about it, and he had a feeling they weren't going to. On the contrary, the shepherd prince had been agreeable to most of his suggestions from the start, picking up on his line of thought. He would be doing what he did best: keeping the wolves at bay, as it were. The castle's armory was well stocked, and David had his own ideas about how they were going to expand their safety-zone cautiously, step by step, taking back the village and the farmlands that were crucial for their survival. With all the soldiers and their families that were presently pouring in to the castle grounds and finding their way back to their queen, they would have the manpower as well as the means to do it.

Rumple's purposely interwoven little revelations about Regina's hasty departure in the tunnels had wiped away the remains of Snow White's initial skepticism. He had omitted the part about the portal, thinking this information might be better suited to a more private moment.

Snow was always distrusting whenever he was around, but Regina set off a whole chorus of inner alarms inside her, and they were audible to him all the way across the room. He couldn't say that he blamed her for being reserved with him, but he could tell she'd come around, unless they had a whole list of better proposals this morning. She always did. She was, after all, _queen_ of this kingdom, or what was left of it, and he was showing her ways of making it habitable again, which she knew, deep down, must be her first concern.

Observing her, he realized she was, infact, looking back and hurting in a hundred ways, even as she stood before him. He could _feel_ her inner wound's throbbing, as he always had, when she had come to him in the past – even in Storybrooke as Mary Margret, when she'd had no idea what was really grieving her. He couldn't give her back the daughter she'd lost a second time, so this was the only way to go from here. Snow White had her prince, and David would be trying to rescue her from herself. That was what he did.

Rumple decided that this would have to be enough for the time being, and he somehow thought that she would do well with what he was offering them all, if he just kept an eye on her.

King Eric – "king", not "prince" anymore, he'd have to remember that – hadn't been hard to talk to, once Belle had rejoined him in the great hall. Belle was an asset indeed. She had reassured Eric that he would certainly find his Ariel again. People _were_ finding loved ones here, even those they had never hoped to see again. Belle had looked at him as she had told Eric this. Rumple had felt her genuine warmth and inspiring confidence take hold of his human heart in a manner that made him see she wasn't just telling the young man what he needed to hear. She was telling them both what she truly believed. Until a few days ago, he hadn't believed that he would ever see her again, yet here they both were, and she was carrying his child. He didn't have words for how he felt, as he gingerly put his arm around her waist.

Eric had brought several dozen of his former armed palace guards onto the castle grounds with him, as well as an overtly-confident looking knight Rumple didn't know, along with his fifty or so footsoldiers plus their families. He had seen them set up camp when he had taken a quick survey outside before coming into the hall. They would all come in very useful.

All in all it was actually quite impressive to see what was coming out of the woodwork in these parts now that the ogres and wolves were not quite as numerous and Maleficent and her bosom girlfriend had left the scene, one scurrying away on tiny short little legs, the other flying through a portal that was now in a thousand pieces.

Again, he tried to put the thought out of his mind for the moment, subconsciously pulling Belle just a little closer. This just kept creeping up on him.

He kept wondering if Bae was safe. If the man he had gotten to know over the last months in Storybrooke and Neverland was anything in the way of what he thought him to be, then Bae would be alright. His son had been taking care of himself for most of his life without him, resenting him for his abandonment, but surviving and growing up all the same.

He would find a way… if there was one. There had to be one…

Rumple needed to think about this, he desperately needed space, unused to the company of so many people, but there were matters that needed tending to right away, or he would not be in a position to think or do anything. He had to get back to the here and now, because Belle was here, right now, and he told himself that had to concentrate on that as he continued to move through the hall, making tactical conversation.

Robin Hood had been talking to Prince Thomas and Cinderella, who had, to Rumple's amazement, made it to the ball. He would have expected them to still be slightly annoyed with him, just a little, maybe, and steer clear of his castle. But they were here, along with the discolored entourage of whatever was left of their court, including their two-year-old daughter, perhaps something over a hundred men, women and children; peasants, servants and another six dozen or so soldiers. Of course they were here, Rumple thought. Thomas and Ella had a child to think of. Children tended to humble your intentions.

He made up his mind to leave them to Robin, since they seemed to be getting along so well. Thomas and Ella's soldiers hailed from a neighbouring kingdom with lands much similar to these, so they would prove their use in securing the farmland, and the peasants would know how to work the fields.

Archie, who was always trying to see the positive side of things, was quickly won over by Rumple's drive for action, if not particularly taken with the status quo. Archie was somehow important. He had no idea why, but people tended to listen to the cricket, so he would be talking to him much more frequently from now on.

Rumple was glad to find that Maurice had not dared to cross his threshold. The man would just have to fend for himself, and that was that. Rumple wouldn't have trusted him being here for anything, and he didn't want him near Belle at all right now. He didn't want her upset, and Maurice had had a way of upsetting her every time they had crossed paths in Storybrooke. She had more than enough to contend with. A pity he hadn't thought of casting a repelling spell to keep the man that called himself her father out, should he still decide to grace them with his presence at a later point in time.

He'd missed the chance to while he'd been redoing all of his shielding and cloaking spells on the castle last night after Belle had been asleep, because none of the spells the Dark One had cast had been working their magic anymore. He wasn't even sure how good they were now that he had to put in so much effort to achieve the same results. They'd just have to be _sufficiently_ good to keep out undesirable magical creatures. He was sure they wouldn't be keeping out other practitioners of magic – they had never even permanently kept Regina out – but they would hide and protect these walls from any enchanted creature of the forest meaning them harm, so they would all be relatively safe here, which was what everyone was banking on. Better the devil you knew, the devil you could bargain with... frequently chosing between pest and cholera was human destiny.

There was an almost eerie hush, as he finally sat down on his chair at the head of the table, Belle by his side. He'd never been at eye-level with any of these people here before. Rumpelstiltskin had spent all the years of his mortal life on his knees before their kind, and the Dark One had drawn great pleasure from tormenting the living daylights out of them for the following three hundred years.

Snow White had earlier ascertained that she was glad they had all moved on… Storybrooke had seen them all "evolve", she'd told him. But would they remember that in the end? He was sure they would all be finding out.


	9. Chapter 9

9.

Bae had no idea where he was going to start. He thought back to their first conversation in New York some months back. That hadn't gone too badly, all things considered, but he hadn't expecting a warm welcome here today. There was no way she would trust him now with Henry missing.

He'd have to think of something, because he was deeply unsettled by the fact. A lot could have happened in one year – it had to have been a year in Emma's world by now, if you were counting that he'd been stuck in the Enchanted Forest for about six or seven weeks of their time – but he didn't think Henry would have turned into a teenage-runaway under Emma's care.

Cooking up stories was second nature to him, so he got going.

"I know about Henry because I've been keeping tabs on you both," he lied, watching Emma draw air as her eyes narrowed, much like Henry's did when he was rattled. "I know this sounds insane," he continued, trying to avoid her searching scowl, hands thrust pleadingly up in the air, "but I came to warn you, because I think you might both be in danger."

Emma's mind was racing again. Who _was_ this guy, really? He'd been a petty criminal when they had met, some years older than she, and _a lot_ better at stealing and deceiving for a living. He was probably still doing just that – or was there more, after all these years? What kind of things was he involved with nowadays, and what had he gotten their son into, she asked herself. It mightn't have been hard to find them, but _why_ on earth would he be keeping tabs on them, if he'd never felt the need to actually contact them?

"First there was some pirate at my door, telling me my parents are in danger, and now you're here, after thirteen years of nothing, telling me my son and I are?" she yelled. "How do I know you haven't kidnapped him, or he hasn't been taken because of you?"

It took Bae a second to figure out that he had really heard Emma shouting the word "pirate". He decided to keep that in mind for later. Hook had been with them when the curse hit Storybrooke, but he hadn't shown up in the forest – at least not that he knew of. It wouldn't be unlikely for him to be here now, somehow. Hook had a tendency to turn up where you would least expect him to. Bae didn't know what that drunk could possibly be planning, but he was sure that Snow and David had nothing to do with it.

"You _don't_ know," Bae replied presently, biting his lower lip and putting his hands on his sides, bracing himself. He looked straight into the eyes now, boldly relying on the moment to get a connection with her. He knew she had a knack for telling when people were lying, and he guessed she would be focusing really hard right now. Maybe he could simply manage to focus a little harder. "You just don't," he repeated, sounding almost resigned.

To his relief, Emma finally eased up a little, deciding that yelling wasn't going to get her anywhere within a reasonable length of time. "I'm listening. Talk fast."

He took one cautious step towards her, and she didn't flinch. "Look, we had something together thirteen years ago, and whatever else it might have been, whatever else happened afterwards, Henry is here because of it. I swear I'm not going to let anything happen to him. I wouldn't be here today if he didn't matter to me."

Emma wasn't sure whether she believed him or not. He had broken into her flat, and he was talking about their son as if he knew him, as if he _felt _something him, having been absent from his life all of his life. Who did he think he was? She knew she'd have to go against her better judgement and play along to an extent if she was going to find out. There was one thing she needed to hear from him, though. "Who are you?" she asked, taking one more step towards him, almost too close to him now. She'd never even known his real name, and she thought she'd earned that by now. "Who are you, really?"

XXXxxxXXX

"So, are you an expert or something?" Henry asked the beautiful women in the chair next to him shyly, keeping his voice down. For a moment, he had the funny feeling that he knew her. He couldn't place her at all, though. This lady was probably some ten years older than his Mom, and he was certain she wasn't one of Emma's few friends. She had rich, chestnut colored hair and really deep dark brown eyes that held his gaze firmly, but not in a disturbing way. She _made_ him look at her, somehow. It wasn't unpleasant, though; it was more a _homey _thing.

Regina smiled at him warmly, reminiscing. "Well, you could say that, yes," she replied. "I know a lot about… fairy tales." She leaned towards him a little and added more softly still, "Especially the true ones."

Henry raised an eyebrow. Was she serious? "The true ones?"

"The ones in here are true," Regina replied, putting her hand lightly on the book, next to Henry's. She felt it quiver under her palm and quickly pulled back. It was telling her that it wasn't hers to touch, just like it had been doing for weeks.

"You're kidding me, aren't you?" Henry rebounded after a moment's silence. The look on her face told him differently.

Regina took off her glasses and searched his eyes again, very intently, very thoroughly. "What do you think?"

Henry's perception closed up all at once, and he suddenly felt himself lose his footing, almost like in a dream. He was falling into an endless chasm – eventhough he _knew_ he wasn't going anywhere. He was all along sitting in his chair at the reading table in the library. Yet the velocity of his plunge was crushing his chest, and he'd never felt so helpless and exposed in all his life. When he finally managed to look about, he was actually beside himself, watching himself, sitting next to the lovely woman he'd been talking to with a blank expression on his face.

He thought she looked different now, somehow. She was wearing a long sparkling blue and silver dress that hugged her perfect curves and matched the slender tiara on her head. Her dark hair was longer and tied back firmly from her face. She looked even more stunning, but her smile was more of a sneer, and suddenly, he was profoundly frightened of her. He couldn't breathe.

It was just a second before the fear of suffocation subsided and gave way to a queasy emptiness in his mind. He felt himself return to his body, covered his face with both hands and rubbed his eyes, trying to get rid of the nausea.

"Henry?" the dark lady inquired, eying him anxiously. "Henry, are you all right?"

"What…?" he asked in a high-pitched voice, realizing she was speaking to him. He found himself staring at her, steadying himself and wondering if he'd had some sort of dizzy spell. He told himself that he must have been seeing things. He wasn't hearing things, though. She'd called him Henry. He was sure he hadn't told her his name. "How do you know my name?"

She tilted her head, still smiling, and pushed her chair back with a little chuckle, pointing at his sneakers under the table. "Who wouldn't?" she scoffed. He was absolutely mortified. Emma had marked the inner side surfaces of them visibly with his name because he was always losing them at the gym. He felt his cheeks heat up and hurriedly began looking for some distraction on the open pages in front of him. If he had been able to pay attention, he would have seen that the picture was changing, showing more and from a different angle than it had before.

Regina did her best to disguise the painful disappointment that was taking hold of her, pasting that smile firmly on her face. She was good at that, but if Henry had remembered his old self, he wouldn't have been fooled, because it didn't reach her eyes anymore.

She had to concede that she hadn't gotten into his head. Not in any way. He was far too well guarded, and he might never be open to her ever again. She had seen to that herself when she had said her goodbyes to the only good thing in her life on the road leaving Storybrooke. The spell she had cast had been worked channeling all her emotions and an iron will to save him from grief. She had wanted to give him his best chance. That was the only time she had ever used magic on him and she saw that she had done well.

Once upon a time, she had vowed never to try to manipulate him by use of magic, and she really wouldn't have, if it hadn't been crucial, but she even had to do it again now. If she couldn't get him to remember, if he didn't start believing again in the way that he had, he would not see his thirteenth birthday a week from now. They all wouldn't.

Henry excused himself to the bathroom, asking her to watch his book. She said she would – leaning back in her chair, losing the smile the moment he was out of sight.

Just then, she felt someone hovering over her. She didn't bother to look up. She knew who it was because she smelled the rum on him. That was, on one hand, strangely comforting. On the other… _What had she been thinking?_

"_You_," the pirate began softly, his mouth way to close to her ear, "should be ashamed of yourself, love." His accent was emphasizing the word "love" ever so unnervingly, and Regina was already having a bad day. She made a mental note to choose her allies a bit more soberly next time.

XXXxxxXXX

Baelfire was watching Emma's face closely as she considered the half-truths he had been offering her. He'd told her his real first name and that he couldn't give her a surname. In his world, you didn't get to have one if you were born poor, but how would that come across in New York, 2013? He was pretty sure she'd have called the police if he'd given her any further input.

"Emma, I'm so, so sorry. But I can't tell you any more right now..."

"I need to look for Henry," she cut him off. "And you can either help me or get out."

"I want to help," he assured her.

Emma was pale, and she was feeling nauseous, but she nodded. "We'll do this one step at a time. I'll try his buddies, and you can call the hospitals," she told him, tossing her smartphone at him.

She kept reminding herself to keep perspective. There was no telling what was keeping Henry out of school and away from home, and this was what she would have been doing next anyway.

"Would you know where to start if we don't have any luck with Henry's friends or the hospitals?" she asked him.

Bae hesitated, as he watched Emma dial the first number on the telephone chain of Henry's class list. "I think I have a way to find him," he told her and started to call the hospitals.

Emma hardly spoke to Bae again while they were still in her flat, but he wasn't uncomfortable with her silence. He admired her levelheadedness and efficiency in tackling this situation. She never had been easily thrown into turmoil. The simple fact that she was still able to improvise as she went even now impressed him and reminded him of why he had fallen in love with her.

A half an hour and twenty-seven phone calls later, they decided to try Bae's plan B.

Emma noticed Bae tucking one of Henry's baseball caps into the inner lining of his jacket as they were leaving the flat, but she didn't comment on it. The elevator was taking an eternity again, so they took the stairs. The cold air outside the building smelled of snow, and Emma shivered.

Bae threw Henry's baseball cap at Red, who was waiting on the sidewalk, hands buried deep in the pockets of her black mink imitation fur jacket. "Henry's missing," he filled her in. "We have to find him." Red needed a moment to process, but then nodded at him. She gave Emma a quick smile.

Emma was about to question Bae when he cut her off. "This is a friend. She's sort of got a sixth sense and can help with this."

Emma watched as the skinny woman with the angular features sniffed the cap and started looking around. "It's difficult," she said. "It's been hours, and there have been so many people here since…"

"Can you do it anyway?" Bae pleaded, but she was already picking up a scent. She'd known Henry all his life, and she would be damned if she couldn't help to locate him here.

XXXxxxXXX

Hook was gone by the time Henry returned to the reading table.

"I think I better get going," he told Regina, reaching for his book. She winked at him casually and watched him leave.

Henry picked up his things from the locker and headed towards the main entrance, hugging the book and trying to think what he was going to do with the rest of the day at home until Emma came from work. He wondered what he was going to tell Mrs. Muller the next day, or if he could get Emma to write an excuse for him by telling her he had been sick before class. He didn't notice that Regina was right behind him as he exited the building through the revolving glass doors, and he didn't see the pirate until it was too late.

Hook walked right into him, grabbing his arm with some force. Henry had grown quite a bit since he had last seen him, so he would be dealing with it, Hook thought. Best be quick.

"Hey, let go of me!" Henry howled as Regina came at him from behind and helped shove him into the backseat of a waiting car. Red was still far off, but she could hear him and started running, closely followed by Bae and Emma.

Regina followed Henry into the seat calmly, motioning her hand at him. Henry immediately stopped struggling and became still. Hook was around the car within a second and started the engine before Emma could even read the plates. Bae followed them most persistently, but all he could do in the end was collapse on the roadside, gasping for air.


	10. Chapter 10

**This one is specially dedicated to my "sounding board" with a big thank you for pointing out that there would be more safety in numbers.**

10.

Raven had never seen so many people in all her life. She hadn't any notion as to where they'd all suddenly come from, and wandered the castle grounds warily, dodging Bertha, who had been trying to put a scissors to her hair all morning.

She stopped at the well in the inner courtyard and watched the persistent lowering and retrieving of a large wooden bucket into its depths for a while. There was a busy queue; young women with bickering children, older men talking amongst themselves, girls in worn-out robes and soldiers in rusty mail coats. A lot of people needed a lot of water, and luckily for them, they _did_ _have_ water here.

Raven couldn't help but wonder how they were all going to be fed, though. She herself had been given some broth and a huge piece of soft bannock by Bertha a few hours before. The thick slab of bread alone would have kept her family for days, and she hadn't been able to finish it all. Her conscience had been bothered by the pure gluttony of it.

The flour for her bread had to have come from somewhere, yet there wasn't an operating mill within a full moon's journey. She would know. Could the sorcerer's magic be _that_ strong, she asked herself, almost discarding the thought before it could take root. No. Not the man that had been standing over her this morning.

No human being could make something out of absolutely nothing. Every flower emerged from some seed, and for everything you took, you had to give back. Every broken thing had been whole once upon a time, and everything new would be old one day. Every life had its death, and every death was the price of this life. Raven knew that nothing was free from the shackles of burden and effort, and even the most powerful magic of this world couldn't break that pattern.

The cold, damp air was filled with the biting smell of smoldering cooking fires; thin wisps of dark smoke were emanating from the dank brand everywhere. She wasn't seeing anything but roots, and, occasionally, the carcass of a freshly-caught rodent going into the assorted pots filled with well water dangling over these fires, though.

Parts of a wild hog were being bargained fiercely. Two or three families were occupied with sifting mouse droppings and dead insects from the old grain they had scavenged from a long abandoned but untouched barn. A few of the elderly women were trying to mend torn or threadbare clothing. Raven watched a blacksmith trying to heat the blade of a battered broadsword that had taken more than the metal could withstand over some carefully-tended red glowing embers that would never be hot enough out here in the open.

There were a lot of children wandering the grounds aimlessly, much in the way that Raven was, so no one was taking a lot of notice of her as she began to peek around the makeshift tents and shelters a bit further back. Most of the people here had next to nothing. Some of the children had absolutely nothing, because their parents had been left dead in the woods; mangled and eaten by the wolves, crushed by an ogre, or taken by an illness.

The girl had no idea what had become of her father, and she didn't care. He had left her entire family dead in the woods, eventhough they had still been breathing. Her mother might be here, she considered for a moment – if she had been fortunate. There was a tiny shard of remorse lodged in her heart for not really wanting to find out, though, because she felt that she would _never_ be able to face her again.

She looked up at the sky, pulling her hood around her head more snugly against the cold. They were still there, circling high above: seven ravens, seven brothers, all of them loved dearly by her, and all of them free of _this_, she thought, taking in the squalor and the growing malevolence in big parts of the encampment, as well as the uncared-for children and the sick old people.

XXXxxxXXX

Rumpelstiltskin frowned as his foot accidentally touched something soft and moving under the banquet table in the great hall. He had his suspicions as to what rascally child was attempting to eavesdrop. Since everyone was focused on King Eric's recount of their human resources at present, he used the moment to bend down, as though he had lost something. He caught a glimpse of Roland cowering under the table, unbeknown to his father, and winked at the boy, motioning him to get out with a quick jerk of his head accompanied by an entirely unmagical flick of his hand. Roland smiled up at him sheepishly and reluctantly crawled out. Rumple couldn't help but laugh to himself. He was enjoying having this inquisitive and witty child about. The thought of again having one of his own quite soon was growing on him by the minute.

"There is safety and strength in numbers right now." Eric's clear and firm voice sounded confidently through the great hall, bringing Rumple back to more immediate matters. Eric was conveying inviolability in a manner the sorcerer hadn't yet come to notice about the young man before today. He hadn't expected to observe this much sovereignty in the inexperienced king, who was presently directly confronting his fool of an uncle, an elderly nobleman of King George's kingdom.

Lord William – the fool – had been thinking out loud that they might all do better by taking back their own respective lands as soon as possible, and Rumple wasn't the only one who had to keep reminding himself to stay calm at his utterings.

The thought that such an endeavor was likely to end in a blood bath had not yet been sufficiently impressed on Eric's bearded, heavy-set relative by recent events. He was putting his current and ongoing losses down to hard luck in starting out and simply being badly equipped.

William had been a very unhappy, debt-ridden car salesman in Storybrooke, and he'd actually been quite relieved to find that his little World-Without-Magic-experience had finally drawn to a close one day. While being lost in the woods the better part of these past weeks, he had come across his good friend and cousin, King George, who had told him the unexpected news that Rumpelstiltskin was back. They'd decided that William would go and see the Dark One about a bargain, because they both wanted to know what it would take to get their people back home. William hadn't expected there to be so many others gathering at this unholy place, although he could see why: the castle was up and running.

George had been right not to come himself. That wouldn't have ended well at this stage, given that his prodigal son James was here along with his traitress of a wife, and they all seemed to be very comfortable with Rumpelstiltskin all of a sudden. Who was to say what kind of new order they would be implementing between them?

Since William had not received any encouraging answers or generous offers from Rumpelstiltskin himself, he was growing anxious, but he certainly wouldn't have his deceased brother's youngster and his play-buddies telling him what was doable and what wasn't. He'd fought two wars in his lifetime, lost three wives to childbirth, plague and infidelity, and he was neither interested in staying here on the Dark One's sufferance, nor in playing farmyard with any of these youths, perhaps losing good men fighting off _their_ ogres from _their_ fields. For all he knew, there were no ogres in his home kingdom.

He was sore and tired of the humiliating road trip his life had become, missing the amenities of his old status dearly. Since he didn't feel obliged to consider his nephew's sentiments, he was almost willing to take a chance blindly at George's side. Particularly in view of the fact that he and George had already agreed to merge their assets.

There were now over a hundred and eighty people with William alone, roughly half of them inside the castle grounds. George had gathered at least two hundred and fifty of his people around him so far.

William couldn't have agreed more with Eric: there was strength in numbers. If Rumpelstiltskin was not willing to help them, they would be in a position to simply take what they needed once he gotten word to George. Things might very soon go back to the way they had always been before – the way that they should be again.

"William, winter is still upon us," Prince James implored the older man, trying to reason with him again. "We're not forcing anyone to stay, but you should really consider delaying actions that would involve moving a large number of civilians across an unknown territory. At least until we get an idea of the ogres' force levels and propagation. We still don't know what else is out there, and we do need to take care of that first, or none of us will get very far."

Lord William gazed first at George's boy and then at his nephew. Finally, he sighed and nodded slowly, realizing that he was on his own here today. But just for today. He would be meeting with George again shortly. He'd just have to sit it out until then, perhaps putting his time to a good use by spreading the odd rumor to keep his people from getting to cosy within these damned walls. He and George definitely had strategies to discuss.

XXXxxxXXX

"Gotcha!" Bertha cried out, seizing Raven in the back courtyard, near the frostbitten, winter-brown kitchen garden. Raven decided not to make a scene here amongst all those people and let herself be led back to the kitchens by the resolute woman, searching the sky one more time before she entered the gloom of the castle's interior.

She obediently knelt by the fireside, bending over a sheet metal washbasin filled with heated water, and allowed Bertha to soak her hair. The water was pleasant, but Raven felt very uncomfortable as Bertha soaped and rinsed, soaped and rinsed, making annoying little noises under her breath and shaking her head slightly every now and then, disclosing her displeasure at the non-existent state of the girl's cleanliness. "Lice!" she exclaimed at one stage. "God help us!"

When she was through washing it, Bertha sat Raven down on a stool and started drying her thick mop vigorously on a clean rag. Afterwards, she began the tedious task of grooming the knitted black mess with a large coarse brush. Just then, a little boy Raven hadn't met yet sat down on the floor right in front of her. He was warming himself at the hearth and visibly enjoying the show as Bertha battled bravely onward with the felted tangles. He was pleased that this wasn't him sitting and suffering at Bertha's mercy this time, but he could also sympathize with Raven, since his own untidy locks often caused him grief on this stool.

"I'm Roland," he told her and waited patiently for a reply. Raven remained silent, seemingly unaware that he was expecting her to say anything. She'd already decided that she liked him, but she simply couldn't speak to him – or anyone, for that matter.

After a while, the boy got up and fetched a crust of bread from the table. He pulled off small bits of it and shared them out between himself and Raven, smiling crookedly at her. She took them one at a time and chewed thankfully, letting his antics distract her from the tugging and tweaking of her scalp. She was intent on holding still and enduring the procedure because she was happy that someone she could relate to was sticking it out with her.

Raven reached inside the wide lining of her sleeve and pulled out one of her treasured black feathers, offering it to him. His smile broadened as he accepted, turning it over and over in his hands, genuinely admiring it. He wondered where she had been lucky enough to find a shiny feather of this size.

XXXxxxXXX

Rumple had an unsettling feeling about Lord William. He felt Belle reach for his hand and a brief glance at her face told him she was thinking the same thing as they watched him slink wordlessly out the door while the council dispersed. He squeezed Belles hand and kissed her forehead reassuringly. He'd handle it.

Snow and David lingered, Rumple noticed. David seemed to want to speak to him, so he let go of Belle's hand and searched Snow's face. Snow took the cue and began chatting with Belle, asking her questions about the castle, pulling her out into the stairwell with her. He saw her looking back at him questioningly and nodded at her, encouraging her to go.

"What were you leaving out just now?" David inquired the moment they were alone.

Rumple raised his eyebrows and shrugged, his lips forming a thin crooked line. "I've no idea what you're talking about," he insisted.

"Come on, we know each other well. What aren't you telling?"

Rumple exhaled. This wasn't going to be easy. "Let's just say that a lot of things might have happened between Storybrooke and this world, and they're not for everyone to hear."

David walked to the entrance of the hall and back, took a precautious look around and faced Rumple again. "'Everyone' is not who we are here," he said in a low voice. "I think we all owe you a great deal, and I'm sure there are things we could be handling together right now." There was a long silence, and David almost gave up, before he decided to push a button he knew would fetch a reaction from Rumple.

"Where's Bae?" he asked softly.

Rumple's eyes darkened and his face closed up. It took him another while before he could speak. He hadn't even told Belle yet. "He's gone from here," he finally managed.

"What do you mean by 'gone'?"

Rumple waved a hand and sealed off the entrance to the room. There were just too many people around, and he realized he would generally have to find a way to get himself some peace in the near future, because most of them would be around for some time to come. He just couldn't _think_ with all of this.

Right now though, the deflection spell on the entrance would have to do for him to tell David about the portal and the people who went through it. It would also buy him the necessary time to debate some of the more immediate problems that had evolved since he had lost a part of his powers. He wasn't about to share on every detail of his dilemma, but he really would be needing help with some things, and he knew from experience that Prince Charming was a man of his word.


	11. Chapter 11

11.

Henry wasn't aware that the car had stopped, but when Regina gently put her hand on his cheek and kissed his forehead lightly, willing him wordlessly to wake up, he drew a breath and blinked into the bright glare of the last winter-afternoon sunlight, realizing he didn't have a clue where he was.

A quick glance around the right side of the SUV revealed that they were near a large common – a park of some sort. There were willows and birch trees, large ancient oaks and a wide, open grassy area, still white with frost where the trees cast their shadows. He could make out Regina's family mausoleum at the far side, tucked into a small grove, but he didn't know it.

To the left, he could see a white building that looked like some sort of government office estate. Beyond that, there were family homes with overgrown hedges and flaking fences, untended yards and dusty cars in unswept driveways. The unkempt look of neglect and abandonment to this place gave Henry the creeps.

The last thing he remembered was leaving the library and bumping into someone. Hard.

Hook turned around to face them from driver's seat. He had just taken a swig from his chromed flask and wiped his nose on his sleeve in the same motion. "'Ello, sleeping beauty," he crowed, a daft grin on his face.

Henry recognized the man and tensed up, reaching for the door handle, but it wouldn't open for him, even when he started rattling hectically, leaning into it. The pretty woman from the reading room at the library was there beside him, telling him to calm down, as she tried to get a hold of his arms. He shook her off and glared at her. "What do you want from me, where am I?" he yelled at her.

"Henry, listen to me," Regina demanded firmly. "No one is going to harm you."

The dark-haired man on the driver's seat huffed loudly, stretched, and shifted out of the car. Henry noticed that he was swaying slightly as he came round the back, and he wondered how on earth they had gotten here in one piece. He wasn't afraid, though. Well, maybe a little. Mostly, he was just furious.

Regina exhaled, braced herself and again tried to take hold of his arms. He'd become quite a handful in one year. "Just try and relax, I'm going to explain everything in a minute…"

Henry's door was finally opened from the outside, and he went tumbling out of the car, falling against Hook heavily. The tall man grunted as he grabbed Henry's collar, yanked him upward and held him firmly, taking a good kicking in his stride as Regina, carrying the book, went after them onto the grassy patch. They were heading out to the common. The wet, uncut grass was soaking Henry's sneakers as he was marched towards the mausoleum.

To his surprise, he recognized the old man standing next to the small grey building. It was the man he'd met at the new shop earlier that day. Geppetto was wearing a threadbare sheepskin coat that didn't seem to warm him very well anymore, and Henry could tell by his red nose and cheeks that he must have been some time waiting for them in the cold.

There was a little boy with him. Henry noticed him peeking out from behind the old man's leg… but there was something wrong with the child. His face and hands were a strange color and texture, Henry thought, as they drew closer. It was like… wood. Henry's mouth fell open. Never mind having just been kidnapped, but he was _seeing_ things. He was wondering if he'd been drugged. He was in so much trouble. But… could it be? This wasn't a kid at all, it was a puppet... moving and talking… by itself… He was definitely losing it.

Geppetto looked at Regina questioningly. She shook her head at him, casting her eyes downward as she moved on to the entrance of the burial crypt.

"He doesn't remember anything…" the old man surmised dismally, more to himself than to Pinocchio, who was clasping his father's hand. Pinocchio, whom Regina had reanimated in the store, in compliance with her promise, was not a real boy again, but at least he was alive, which he hadn't been in the Enchanted Forest when they had been returned there. Geppetto was thankful for this, but he wasn't at all sure what to do next. If Regina hadn't been able to reboot Henry's memory, then they wouldn't be going back. They would be running and hiding from the Wicked Witch for the rest of their lives.

"So, can we start speeding things up a little now, love?" Hook inquired, drawing too close for comfort to Regina, who couldn't help but wrinkle her nose at him in disgust. "I found him, I've helped you bring him here, and now, I've got places to be," he continued, stopping in the entrance of the mausoleum to shove Henry inside ahead of her and Geppetto.

He didn't, actually, because his kiss of true love hadn't worked out very well – as he'd almost expected, since Emma didn't love him and never would. _Plus_, Emma wasn't interested in finding any long-lost parents of hers who might be in danger – which he might equally well have expected. For all she knew, they had dumped her by the roadside, a day old.

"Do you really think you can just walk away?" Regina hissed at him. "Does it not concern you that there is an evil witch with an issue out there, set on annihilating _all_ of us, and probably on her way here at this moment?"

"I'm looking at an evil witch with an issue right here, love," he replied dryly. "Find a way to destroy the book, _which, incidentally I'm not in_, and all _your_ troubles will be over. Take Henry back, or take him on a nice long vacation, for all I care. I know of this beautiful little island that's recently become vacant."

Geppetto shook his head sadly, looking back and forth between them. "You _can't_ destroy the book," he informed Hook – again, for the umpteenth time in the last months the two of them had involuntarily spent together.

The need to retrieve and protect the book he'd started to help Blue create before Regina had unleashed her curse first time round hadn't left him with any other choice but to stick it out with this… person. He had agreed to stay put and wait for Regina. He hadn't bargained on finding Hook in Storybrooke, drinking his way through the stores of the deserted, but otherwise unscathed town after having been been left behind by the new curse. It seemed that this pirate just didn't belong in any world anymore, and he knew it.

After Geppetto had finally been able to hand the book over to Regina, she had tried to make it work, but found that she couldn't even touch it. So she had not kept her end of the deal then and made him a new one. He and Hook were to find Henry, because she knew that Henry was the key to open the third and final portal to the Enchanted World, which was where they had to get it back to.

Regina looked Hook up and down in distaste. She didn't have the nerve to put up with him anymore right now. "Go get yourself cleaned up while the grown-ups talk, dear," she hissed at him as she opened the secret passage to the undercroft. Hook turned tail and left them to descend into the depths of what had once been Cora's magical storage rooms. She was nudging Henry down the narrow steps ahead of her gently, and he could see that there was someone at the bottom, bound and gagged on the floor.

Geppetto had known that Blue was there because he had helped Hook with the ropes.

XXXxxxXXX

Mother Superior had been cleaning out shelves at the nunnery's library when she came upon the first of Geppetto the carpenter's stories. He had written down wondrous tales on large sheets of parchment, ornate letters lovingly inscribed and carefully placed to mark the beginning of each new and even more fascinating chronicle. She had begun to read them, losing all track of time when Geppetto the janitor happened to pass her at the reading table and look over her shoulder.

"I didn't know those were still there," he commented, putting down a waste basket.

She looked up at him in amazement. "Do you know who did this?"

He nodded, smiling wryly. "I did. A long time ago"

"They're beautiful," she told him, shuffling the paper around to reveal some drawings. "Did you also do these to go with them?"

"No," he admitted, "and I can't recall who did. They must have been gathering dust in here for decades. Do you want me to take them out to the dumpster with me?"

She violently shook her head, trying to decide what to do about them instead.

Later that evening, she enlisted him – again – to finish the writing he'd started. She had made up her mind to do more drawings – she loved to draw, and she was very taken by the ones she'd found – and if the results of their mutual efforts were to some degree compatible, she would have him bind them for her to donate to Storybrooke Elementary. He'd been very flattered and had started cleaning and straightening some of the more crumpled sheets out, as well as getting started on the first of many new tales, that he'd somehow found drifting around in his mind.

After some weeks, Geppetto had bound over fifty fairy stories into a thick, dark leather covering for Mother Superior, still not aware, at that point, of what he was about to set free in one lonely little boy.

XXXxxxXXX

He was a carpenter, a simple man, but he'd travelled the entire realm and met the most fascinating people, heard the most captivating stories… With his eye for beauty and worth, he had kept them all in his heart until Blue had asked him to write them down, lest they'd be lost to them all if Rumpelstiltskin was wrong and the savior didn't return. The book had been, and still was, a masterpiece of fairy-magic, as it had turned out, not needing pixie dust or any other catalyst to take Henry from one world to the other.

Regina knew that, but so did the Wicked Witch. Thanks to Blue.


	12. Chapter 12

12.

It was past midnight. A ghostly, silver crescent illuminated Belle and Rumple's room. Cold shadows emerged, stretched, and disappeared back into the darkness as it crept across the clear night sky. Belle awoke, feeling a chill in the air. Rumple still wasn't there, and his side of the bed was untouched. She let her hand glide over the cool white sheets, worrying.

She was shivering, so she cocooned herself in her wooly extra blanket for a minute to warm up. The fire in the open hearth must have gone out a while ago. That had never happened when she'd lived in this castle before Storybrooke. Fires had always stayed lit during winter nights like these. And even if they hadn't, she'd never been this cold. She decided that she'd have to attend to that or freeze to death by morning – there was no sleeping in this room.

Belle sighed and quickly slipped out of bed, wrapping the blanket around her shoulders. It only took her a minute to pull on some stockings and find her leather sandals. She replaced her blanket with a knitted shawl and got to relighting the hearth, thankful for the small mercy of enough suitable kindling in the wood basket. When she was sure that it would stay lit, she skillfully placed some thin logs around it and left it to itself.

She threw Rumple's thick cloak on over her shawl and stepped out into the dimly lit corridor, intent on finding Rumple. His need for solitude hadn't escaped her earlier that evening, but she thought it was time he got some rest now. He'd never seemed to need much sleep, but he was fraught and troubled, and she could think of a good many of reasons for this. They were all keyed up, every last one of them, and they were all trying very hard not to display that fact too plainly.

She didn't feel like running into anyone at this hour, so she raised the hood of her cloak, not knowing that Robin, too restless for sleep tonight, had just turned the corner behind her and unintentionally watched her disappear into thin air. He would have spoken to her, but things like these never ceased to stagger him, even after he'd been actively watching Rumpelstiltskin work magic in the woods and in the castle over the last weeks. He leaned against the wall for a moment, smiling to himself. This explained a few things. He couldn't help but be glad that Belle was in possession of an object as fine and as useful as this. This woman never ceased to amaze him. Rumpelstiltskin was a lucky man to be loved by her.

Belle stepped lightly, trying not to make any sound that would give her away as she went down the broad staircase. She was deeply concerned whether Rumple was coping with his newly established mortality in a way that would grant him sleep again anywhere in the near future. She knew that he'd mastered as well as orchestrated several lifetimes' worth of fate, doom and destruction, but being the Dark One had naturally and magically evened the angry paths he had gone down by conducting his conscience in a way that he might not have had much influence on. It had shielded him from himself to the point of making him forfeit any and all other beliefs but his fierce faith in the power of darkness. He hadn't let himself believe that anyone could possibly ever again see the man underneath all that, the man he had once been before he had bargained away his humanity away to save his son.

Even after everything that had happened she felt blessed to be the one person whom he had still been capable of letting into his heart. It's where she wanted to be right now, helping him carry his burdens. She had hoped that they might have a chance to talk about some things today, but there just hadn't been time and space for them to do that.

They were facing the problem of sustaining the unbelievable masses of frightened and confused people on the verge of starvation crowding in to them from everywhere. They needed to organize themselves methodically and keep the peace and sanctity of the castle with at least two more months of hard winter ahead of them, while the kingdom was still teeming with ogres and wolves. There had even been sightings of dragons in the east.

She could go on and on, and, but as if that hadn't been enough, she had the haunting feeling that there was more to it still. Rumple's incorrigible nasty habit of keeping secrets, even from her, had survived his curse beyond a doubt. She was willing to be patient, but she had also made up her mind to that she was not going to leave him alone with himself too often or too long.

There were a quite a few rooms in this huge castle she might expect Rumple to seek his space in, to work or to think in. She took a wild guess and set about searching for him in the dungeons for starters. She was surprised to find that she was dead-on first time. The heavy iron shod door to _"her room"_ appeared in the wall and opened for her, as it hadn't done for Roland or Snow, who had also been looking for him earlier that evening. To anyone who didn't know it was there, _it just simply wasn't_. Again, she realized that it was probably blood magic that had allowed her passage.

"_Her room_" had changed quite visibly since she had been here last, thirty years ago. She had left him standing there alone after he had released her from their deal, hurt and angry, telling him things she had no idea how she had mustered the courage to. She'd not looked back then, and she knew that this had been the decisive moment for them both.

To her, his being here, of all the rooms in his castle, bore testimony to his inner state tonight. He either consciously or subconsciously tended to seek out his most painful experiences, the ones that weighed hardest on his soul, and used the emotional backlash to tap into ethereal magical properties in the air around him, like bits of an enigmatical golden code that only he could perceive as he looked about for something to grasp. It was magic that might have been just out of his reach at times, but she had seen him persevere, capture and harness it while working on his spells, assembling the puzzle in his mind until it was finished and ready for him to call upon. She didn't think that this kind of magic had been "gifted" to him the night he'd become the Dark One. It had at best been prompted by the Dark Power. This was Rumpelstiltskin, live and in the flesh, over three hundred years into his incredible journey…

Belle found her sorcerer standing with his back to the door, a glass pipet in one hand, bending over a small, rather unremarkable looking book that was laid out on a small but sturdy table in one corner. There were several shelves on the wall just above it, containing jars with assorted contents, bundles of herbs and an array of instruments. To someone that didn't know him or his very own inner system, the work surface might have seemed extremely messy and chaotic with all the strange and unlikely things that were strewn around in between the various scrolls, tubes and test set ups. He was working by candle light, since the torches mounted on the walls had probably burned down hours ago.

He heard her come in, but was just finishing a mixture and needed to keep focused. Three more drops from the pipet into the green glass beaker and he'd be done. She had closed the door softly and was already beside him, taking down her hood, when he looked tentatively up at her. He knew by her tense expression that he must have been worrying her. He put down the dropper and the beaker he was holding, briefly glancing at its contents one more time. Seemingly satisfied, he turned to face her fully, taking her hands in his.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I needed to get something done."

She looked down at his hands, wondering at how warm they were. It was a thing about him; he'd always felt too warm to her, and that hadn't changed since his curse had been lifted. "Are you through, are you coming?" she asked mildly, more so than he had anticipated. She didn't seem cross with him, just a bit anxious.

He struggled with himself for a moment and tried to avoid her eyes, but then remembered something important. "Give me your ring," he ordered, taking off his own.

She had no idea where this was going, but didn't hesitate to obey.

He smiled mischievously, took it from her and retrieved one of the Erlenmeyer flasks from the table. It contained a very watery red liquid. Carefully, he tilted it just enough to allow for both rings to slide inside through the chimney opening smoothly, and swiveled it expertly with flowing motions. He put it down, and they watched as the glass fogged up.

"Rumple?" she exclaimed.

"Don't worry," he reassured her. The crimson mist inside the flask seemed to dissolve almost instantly, leaving only the rings inside. He waited a silent count to five and presently tipped the rings back into the palm of his hand. "There."

"What have you done to them?" she inquired, as he slid her ring back onto her finger, kissing her knuckles.

Again avoiding her eyes, he made a point of busying himself by putting his own ring back on and clearing away the used, but somehow now clean flask.

"Rumple!"

"I can't be summoned anymore," he explained. "I wouldn't hear you if you called for me."

Belle raised her eyebrows and tried to regain his attention by crowding in on him just a little. "And…?"

"Not that _you_ ever did. Summon me, I mean…" he continued, giving up on his tidying and turning back to her. "But if you'd wanted to, you couldn't have anymore. And there are no cell phones here."

Belle smiled. "So… you made a replacement."

He shook his head, smiling back, visibly pleased. "Well, a beeper... or rather: a blinker. If you need me, all you have to do is think of me intently, and I'll know. I've modified the locating spell I had already had on it. It's just in case, you know."

"Red or pink?" she chuckled.

"Purple, actually," he smirked.

She wrapped her arms around him, burying her face in the angle between his shoulder and his neck. "Would it work both ways?" she inquired into him more seriously.

"It would," he replied softly, holding her, holding _on_ to her. "I won't always be here with you. Those people up there all want to be able to return to their homes – they'll have to. And they'll have to be prepared, capable and ready to plant their fields once the worst of the frost is gone, or we'll all starve, never mind the ogres."

Belle had known all of what he was telling her. She had been waiting to hear the things she hadn't been aware of. "What else is troubling you?"

Haltingly, he told her a lot more than he had told David earlier. He didn't want her to end up hearing bits and pieces from Snow, _and_ it was diverting her attention sufficiently from the more disturbing of his problems.

She listened attentively, chewing her lower lip in the way that she always did when she was thinking. Finally, she began to ask questions.

XXXxxxXXX

"Can we go back into the mines and find out if there's really nothing to be done about that portal?" Snow asked David in the dull light of their hearth. They were sitting on a soft rug near the fireplace, whispering, as though the walls might have ears and overhear the secrets David had been telling his wife.

XXXxxxXXX

Rumple looked at Belle and exhaled, turning away from her again. He'd thought about it, but there were more pressing things. "I don't think it would do any good. It can't be fixed."

XXXxxxXXX

"But _I_ think we need to try anyway," Snow continued. "Maybe he overlooked something. He must have been frantic."

XXXxxxXXX

"Also, we have to find Tink," Belle assessed.

"So I can skin her…?" Rumple growled in reply.

XXXxxxXXX

"Tinkerbell might be able to tell us why Blue would smash a portal that could have gotten us all back," Snow suggested, as David's eyes darkened. He wasn't sure if he'd wanted to go back, given the choice.

XXXxxxXXX

Rumple knew he wouldn't be going back, even if they managed to find a way. He'd gotten a very clear message. He really didn't want to go down that road with Belle right now, but she wasn't letting him off the hook. "Well, that would be either to keep us in, or to keep something or someone else out," he admitted. "We all saw what that witch seems to be capable of. Would we really want her to be in a position to return with whatever she was hoping to retrieve on the other side?"

XXXxxxXXX

Snow considered this. "I'd really like to know, even now. She might still be a danger. What if Bae or Regina led her to Emma and Henry?"

"Providing they went back to Storybrooke or some other place in Maine… They could have ended up in Oz for all we know," David replied.

XXXxxxXXX

"I don't think so…" Rumple covered his mouth with his hand. "Belle, I don't believe they did."

XXXxxxXXX

"Why not?" Snow inquired. "How do we _know_ that this portal led back to Maine?"

XXXxxxXXX

"Because I couldn't go near it!"

Rumple grew painfully aware that he was now almost shouting at Belle, and he felt ashamed as he looked at her, trying to curb himself. She couldn't know. He took a deep breath and continued with more restraint. "Belle, I couldn't go near it. I wasn't permitted to… because... because I _died_ in Storybrooke. I could _never_ go back because I did. Believe me, I wouldn't have sent Bae or Red through, had I known that there would be no way back for them. I thought I was getting them out of harm's way. Probably even did. But _no one_ will be passing through that portal ever again, because a foolish fairy thought she had the right to destroy it."

XXXxxxXXX

"I want to see it anyway," Snow declared. And she would.

XXXxxxXXX

Rumple leaned against the table. He was bone-weary, and he needed for this conversation to be over. There was still so much to do... "I love you, Belle, and I wish things had worked out differently, I really, really do. I wish my son was here... David and Snow want their daughter and Henry back just as badly. But we need to make sure we can get this place running for us again, or we're all lost."

XXXxxxXXX

"You won't be doing it alone," Snow gently tried to reassure David.

Just then, they could hear screams. People were yelling, and there was a loud scuffle in the stairwell. Rumple's eyes widened in horror, and he pushed past Belle swiftly. "You stay here and DON'T move until I come and get you," he implored her, shutting the door firmly behind him. She wasn't squeamish, but she was suddenly afraid for Rumple.


	13. Chapter 13

13.

It was a long drive to Storybrooke. Bae was pushing the cheap rental car to its limits on the rural roads once they had cleared the city traffic. Emma was shifting impatiently on the passenger seat, while Red was lost in her own world in the back of the blue Toyota.

She had been very much hoping to return to this word. There hadn't seemed to be much chance of it at first, but being here now proved that you should never say never. _There was always hope_. Right now, their first priority was Henry, yet she was almost sure she would not be going back to the Enchanted World, no matter what Bae was thinking. She would help Bae and Emma where she could because she owed that to her friends and to Snow, as well as a lot of other people dear to her, but she was free in her own mind, in the end. She knew that she might have to make a decision very soon, and she was certain that she could make the right one.

Perhaps Bae would be making the same choice for himself, given the circumstances. Red thought that he would not be keen on living out his days in a place that _made_ evil through helplessness and poverty, even if poverty was not his problem anymore, most likely. She had been glad to get to know him in the Impervious Forest, because there were a lot of things that she genuinely liked about him – if you could ignore his parentage. He was not helpless in any world, and he confidently tackled problems as they occurred. He wasn't always honest, and he did keep to himself a lot, but that was understandable; to her, at least.

There was one big difference between them, though. He was the Dark One's son, and she was a monster born to a poor woodcutter. The woodcutter had died at his own wife's hand, or rather, jaw, and her grandmother had been left to raise her. If things had gone badly in the Enchanted World after the first curse, she would not even have her grandmother's house to return to. She could imagine the destruction that would have left behind; if not by the curse itself, then by the looters and wild animals. Nature always had a way of taking back its own. She'd be without any means whatsoever, not wanting to be dependent on any friends who might have it better, and certainly not asking for Belle and Rumple's help. Bae's future, however, might not even be all bad in the Enchanted World, and he would neither have to worry about meals nor peasants with pitchforks as long as his immortal father was around. Her own future was a disaster waiting to happen. In that respect, this world had one very important thing going for it: there were simply more ways to hide from the dark – or the light, for that matter. People were expecting secrets here, not fearing them. She didn't see that she had a feasible alternative. Bae did.

They were crossing the town limits, and Red rubbed her cramped legs, thinking back at the previous day, when they had returned here...

Bae hadn't let go of Red's hand as they had leapt, and she recalled the warm feel of it. He didn't let go of people while entering portals, as his father had done. Unsure of what to expect, they had braced themselves for the worst. The intense glare of the passageway had blinded them, while the static murmur took their sense of hearing. When they had suddenly felt solid ground back under their feet, they had still been far from seeing it, and Red had called to him. She remembered registering his assuring embrace, wishing that his choice might not separate them for a while yet.

XXXxxxXXX

It took them both several nauseous, claustrophobic minutes to get back on their feet, but once they did, they both realized it was probably smart to get moving. They were in a mine, and there were tracks, just like there had been in Storybrooke. This didn't have to mean that they were in Storybrooke, but Bae was hoping so as he looked around. _If_ they were, then this meant that there was a way back to this world for all of them. Those that would want to go, that is.

They didn't get very far, before the ice portal began to light up again. They were about to have company. He urged Red to get her head down, as he shoved her behind a rusty old tram that had been tipped off the tracks.

He had hoped for Rumple, but his heart almost broke when he saw the Wicked Witch emerge. If Rumple had not been able to protect the portal, was he hurt or even dead, perhaps? The Witch seemed not half as thrown by her passage here, and she was in a hurry. Not even stopping to look around too closely, she disappeared in a puff of black smoke an instant before an ear-shattering noise shook the old mine. The portal collapsed in itself, not even leaving a hole in the ground or in the wall, as the magic-bean portals that Bae had seen would do. The ice-sheeting was simply gone. Bae's held his breath. This was definitely complicating things.

Getting to his feet, he discovered that the witch had not come here alone. Blue had been right behind her, and she was still here now, seeming as unaffected by her journey as the witch had been. She looked lost in thought as she stared at the glistening shards strewn throughout the mine.

"What the hell was that?" he yelled, having caught his breath and coming at her. "What have you done?"

"I'm trying to limit the damage," she replied coldly, stopping him by raising her palm at him before he could reach her. His legs froze. "I made a mistake, Bae, but I'm putting it right now. I destroyed the portal. You of all people should know that we don't belong here. None of us do, and we will be the last to transit. It will end here."

"Does _she_ know that?" he shouted, gesticulating in the general direction the witch had taken.

"Yes, and she will try to find the _final portal _to use for herself just one more time."

"There is another one, then?" Red thought out loud, not knowing whether this was good or bad.

Blue nodded slowly. "I created two portals. I had to try several options, but the wardrobe was the best chance we had in that situation. We were running out of time, and neither this one nor the other was completed when Regina cast the curse."

"Who completed this portal, then?" Red wondered.

Blue looked up at her, guarding her expression. She was thinking of the dwarves she had imprisoned within the dark bowels of the mountain for their good intentions. They had known what they were doing the moment they had returned to the Enchanted World because they had been employed to help her with her initial efforts all those years ago, sworn and bound to secrecy by the vows of their order. But they had gone it alone, and she had come upon them by chance when she had felt the vortex caused by the enormous amount of fairy dust in combination with the enchantments she had placed on the cavern. She had been too late, and the power field had been completed, all circuits closed, as it were. It had been her intention to destroy the portal right away, but she had let poor judgement get the better of her. As she had may times in the past.

The dwarves would eventually find and dig their way out, if they hadn't already done so in their world. It's what they did best, and they would know their place again once they had, she thought. They had spent too much time in Storybrooke, thinking they might have been made for better things or higher purposes. This wasn't so: they had been created souly to serve her race's purposes, and that was what they would be returning to doing, once she had taken care of her problem on this side and found her way back.

"It doesn't matter who did, not anymore," she snapped. "The point is, no one will be using it again. Henry's book needs to be destroyed, too, before she can get to it. She wants it to rewrite our history."

Red looked at Bae, and his expression told her he'd understood what Blue was getting at. "Rewrite history?" she finally pressed him when he didn't catch on to her ignorance.

He nodded. "August did that once. He added to the book. When you add or take away from it, you change the stories, or parts of them, or you can even bring about new ones."

"Which is why it needs to be destroyed so no one can tamper with the old order ever again," the Blue Fairy summed up determinedly.

Just then, Regina stepped out of the shadows. "Not if I can help it. I will _not_ let you close this door on us," she declared. "Just because one of your children is out of control? _Come on!_ Maleficent is a very talkative little reptile, and she told me that it _can_ be done, because it _has_ been done. And: The book can be protected, because Henry is the only one who can work its magic."

"You have no idea," Blue replied alarmedly. "The book can't be _protected_, because in the end, _Henry_ can't be protected from Morrigan if the book remains."

The Blue Fairy knew that her progeny had no intention of returning to where she had banished her over a thousand years ago. Her child was going to take Henry's inert abilities, which would kill him, and use it to unlock the book's hidden chapters – the very first recounts of the ancient tale that she'd written and concealed long before her daughters had been born or Regina and her magic thought of. The beginnings of her story that lay hidden in the parchment beneath the inking of the visible fairytales that Henry knew were going to be changed if she didn't stop her, and they'd all cascade into oblivion. All fates in the Enchanted World would be altered in the Wicked Witch's favor forever.

There had been three descendents, once upon a time, three daughters: _weyward sisters, hand in hand…_ The She-Wolf of War, Morrigan, had been the Blue Fairy's first child. A Seer, Macha, had been her second, and Badhbh, the Black Cry of Death her third and final. She had exiled them from her world, not having had the heart to kill them herself, because, together, they had not been controllable. They had challenged her, and collectively, they would have brought eternal darkness to their world, tipping the scales of destiny and time itself so far that nothing of an order would have remained.

She had given the Wolfess Morrigan, the most powerful of them, sleep in an unguarded moment and exiled her to another land, at a time when there still had been magic beans. Morrigan had been taken to a netherworld so far beyond, that only the most bedeviled souls would find it in their worst fever-nightmares for centuries to come.

The Seer had remained in the Enchanted World, but the Blue Fairy had curbed her magic, taken her eyes and left her on the far borders of their land for the ogres, hoping for a mild death. That had been a mistake, because Macha had survived the sands of time, awaiting her chance, and she had given the Dark One gladly what had remained of her gifts, in the certainty that they would one day be turned on _her_.

Finally, the Blue Fairy had heavy-heartedly cursed her most beautiful and beloved daughter, Badhbh, to take to the air in the shape of a raven. If her feet were ever to touch the ground, she would lose all awareness of herself and live out her days in human misery over and over again to the end of time.

Morrigan had returned to the Enchanted World, freed by chance when Rumpelstiltskin's curse had been corrupted a third time. And the she was _set_ on rewriting her fate.

Bae struggled helplessly against the invisible bonds that were disabling his legs. Regina was looking right at him, but she wasn't about to lift a finger to help him out. How he hated her guts... His father had been such a fool about Regina. _What_ had he been thinking when he'd taught her? She was not just a force of nature, she was unadulterated evil, and that would never change, no matter what pretty face she put on. If Rumpelstiltskin had ever thought she was controllable, or even containable, he had been SO wrong. Or had he _seen_ it and marked his days?

Regina closed her eyes for a second and mumbled something Bae could not make out. She elegantly flung what looked like black ashes at the Blue Fairy, who was taken by surprise and attempted to shield herself using the cropped powers of the reduced magic she held in this world. Still, she began to shift back to one of her old forms, a sprite-like creature the size of a bluebird. With her curved wings wet and pasted to her fragile body, she was not able to take flight and rendered helpless, engulfed in a faint green light that seemed to slow her, obstruct her, so she could not respond to Regina's well-prepared enchantment. She tried to break through the translucent shroud, but she simply could not merely on the basis of what she had been left with and no magical tools to serve as her crutch. Anger obscured her features; her beautiful, kind face began to morph into a twisted grimace of hate, pointed teeth bared at her underrated adversary.

Regina laughed at Blue's attempts to free herself and turned towards Bae and Red. "Don't worry. That'll wear off," she explained, pointing fidgetingly at their legs. "Eventually." At that, she left without looking back, taking the Blue Fairy with her by waving her finger at the dim glow of her supernatural detention cell, directing it. "Now, now, don't wear yourself out in there, dear. I spent weeks writing that spell," she mocked Blue. "And believe me, you're not going anywhere."

XXXxxxXXX

Bae could still hear Regina's voice trail off in the distance as he pulled into town. "Keep your eyes open – I have a hunch, but you never know," he advised them, as he slowed the car, searching the streets for the beige SUV he had seen speeding away from them earlier that day. He didn't have much of a plan, but they certainly wouldn't be returning Henry to New York with Emma any time soon. They would have to get Henry and the book, somehow, and do what he had been doing the last three hundred years: run.

They would think of something. He took a quick, worried look at Emma, who was nervously scanning the roadside from her window.

"There!" she cried, pointing at the beige car they had been looking for. "There it is!"

Bae realized that Regina must have taken Henry to the mausoleum, where her powers were strongest in this world. There was a cellar full of magic there, and he hoped they would not be too late.


	14. Chapter 14

14.

Raven cowered in the space beneath the stairwell leading to the second floor. She was keeping vigil tonight, because she knew that bad things were about to happen. She had heard and seen things on the castle grounds, felt the ill will grow as the sun had started setting and the icy breath of this winter night had begun whispering into the earth. There were people speaking badly of the sorcerer, though he had done nothing to constitute the rumors that one of the Lords was spreading. He was gathering his men, and they would be taking the castle tonight, if they could. Raven had also seen the small army outside the outer walls from above through her brothers' eyes, waiting to be let in, impatient to burn and to pillage under a king that would have them show no mercy.

The girl felt a strange affinity towards the sorcerer and his kind wife. She didn't wish upon them what she felt coming their way. She knew that Belle was with child, but she could not see it live if the sorcerer did not turn their fate. Life was so frail.

XXXxxxXXX

Charming heard the commotion outside in the hall; loud and furious voices, the clanging of metal, the screams of the overwhelmed, shouts of anger and pain. Within seconds, he had grabbed his sword, freed it of its sheath and was moving swiftly into the cold dark hallway towards the main stairwell. Snow was right behind him, carrying a lighter blade of her own. He didn't bother to tell her to stay behind because he knew she wouldn't.

Coming down the stairs, they could soon see there was hard fighting going on near the bottom of the main stairwell out towards the open double winged doors. Judging by the mayhem of enraged voices and fierce scuffling, Snow guessed there was more going on further back on the ground floor in at least one of the smaller hallways that led either to the kitchens or to the dungeons. Some of the guards David had helped Robin position and instruct at the inner defense gates and walls had been pushed back towards the building and already lay bleeding or dead on the ground in the courtyard outside near the entrance doors, while others were still holding out just inside the hallway against people he actually recognized because he had seen them on the perimeter that day. It wasn't making sense to him yet. There were ever more armed men pushing and shoving their way inside, but their intentions were hard to determine, especially in the gloom of the precious few torches that were still lit in their wall holders.

David knew he would have to play it by ear, because he couldn't tell friend from foe at this moment. They were battling enemies from within the compound, so he couldn't trust himself to strike first. He soon found that he didn't need to: Most of the time he wasn't in doubt because he was being attacked by men who seemed to know his face quite well. They were determined to kill him, as though the devil himself had given the order, and there was nothing knightly or honorable about their way of going about it. They weren't gallantly taking turns, as they might have done on some monumental historical-based movie playing in the Storybrook Cinestar. Two or three were always coming at him at the same time – and they were thrashing him, as he felt his sword arm tire all too soon.

Robin was fighting near the main entrance, striking vicious blows of the sword at a soldier he recognized by the crest on his shield – he had seen it on a standard above one of the tents earlier in the day on the compound. Rumpelstiltskin had been right not to trust Lord William, he realized. He'd asked Robin to step up his measures in securing the castle, but to treat William's men with prudence and leave them out of anything that might compromise the castle's safety. It was hard to believe that anyone from within would be plotting against them now, but just that seemed to be happening.

The bowman had hurried to rouse all of his men and sent Will Scarlet through the secret passage underneath the kitchens for reinforcements from the encampment the minute he had heard the first alarm whistles that told him the inner gates had been breached. He'd had those gates closed every night for all the years he had been living here with his men, and having them opened meant that any number of aggressors could be gaining unhindered access from the outer perimeter, where most of the refugees, possibly a thousand now, were presently camped. He could see that there had already been over a dozen human casualties and deaths, and from where he stood, he estimated that they were looking at about thirty more or less armed intruders in the stairwell and the hallway, and over fifty more in the courtyard.

He knew that Snow's and Thomas' men would be ready to fight for this castle. Eric's men were very capable, and he was almost sure that a lot of the miscellaneous drifters they had been reeling in lately were thankful and smart enough to choose their sides well. Since he and John had spent most of the last two days briefing the willing and able out of the of hodgepodge of soldiers from the different kingdoms on the layout of the inner and outer castle grounds, the working of the gates and the other defensive mechanisms, as well as starting to develop a contingency plan for the increasingly enlarging sentry shifts they had been running on both the inner and the outer perimeter, Robin was hoping for at least a hundred loyal men at arms within the inner yard in the next minutes, so all they had to do was stand fast, stay alive and try to get those heavy doors closed and bolted; not all was lost yet.

Rumple charged up the lower staircase two steps at a time, feeling and hearing destruction on his doorstep. He had expected it, but not this soon, not in this night. He was sure he knew who was bringing it on, and that it didn't have any kind of magical background. If it had, his wards would have stopped the infiltration. The spells he had cast could not protect from human hostility, but they would have held against the witch or any other supernatural force meaning them harm at least for a while. He would have been warned, and he worried whether the outer walls had been breached or the gates opened yet. If they had, there was no telling what hell was going to break loose here tonight.

This was going to be a trial of strength, and their enemies were probably hoping for a nice little plundering of his armory at the end of it. Infact, maybe not just at the end of it, but at the center of it, judging by the direction the bulk of the inpouring soldiers were deciding on and pushing: they were coming right at him and thus directly towards the stairway that led to the dungeons and the castle's weaponry. He was deeply and painfully regretting having told Belle to stay put down there, but there was no going back for her. If she stayed where she was, however unlikely that might be, she would still be reasonably safe as long as he stayed alive and his enchantment continued to conceal the room... but if he died, she would be lost in any case.

Just then, he felt a familiar warming sensation on the back of his neck, and he could somehow smell Belle's soap... She was here, close to him. His fear for her life crept its way up and down his spine, but he decided it was going to be the death of her if he allowed it to impair his judgment and cripple him, so he was going to stand and fight as he never had: he wasn't going to lose her. She was moving away from him presently, just as he was facing the first of his adversaries, and he had no way of stopping Belle, but suddenly, he had the strangest feeling that he wouldn't need to.

Other thoughts began to shape and expand in his head, pulsing through his body, helping him to find his speed and his balance once more. He found, to his amazement, that he could again fully draw on over three hundred years of experience as though the memories were fresh, and he could rely on his skilled mind to drive his actions onto their necessary and imperative courses. He was rediscovering the spells and the magic he needed in his hands, as well the means to stall time itself to be able to handle them. Just for a second, he was afraid for his soul, because he would be _taking_ _ lives_ tonight, but he was able to banish the horrifying feeling of the monstrous evils being committed in his home, and he let the power of his magical abilities and their use to save his family devour him, all of him, hoping that he would have the strength to come back up from these dark waters like a drowning man the second this was over.

They could not afford to lose the weapons they had stocked, because steel was hard to come by and difficult to forge in this world, so it was an immediate requirement to stop the fighting inside his castle and get at least the inner circle locked down. Time was, as always, of the essence, and there might not be enough loyal men on their feet yet to save the armory and prevent the burning that was bound to follow – he would be doing this his very own old-fashioned way.

Rumpelstiltskin threw the man that was coming for him with a war hammer, thickset and twice his weight, back at the wall, hard, with a well-directed wave of his hand, shattering bones and breaking plaster. He hadn't killed him, but the soldier would not be getting to his feet anytime soon. There were more warriors coming, roaring and brandishing spears, swords and axes, but he was dealing with them self-sufficiently, self-assuredly and almost naturally, without one single superfluous motion.

XXXxxxXXX

Belle hadn't been sure what to do and she'd hesitated for a moment when Rumple had hurried from the room. He had ordered her to stay put, yes, but it wasn't that simple – she didn't take orders from her man. She'd only needed a moment to consider and made her decision to go after him. Raising the hood of her cloak, she had silently crept out into the lower hallway, following Rumple up the stairs. She had a right to know what was going on, and she'd felt that she might be needed.

Belle had seen the young archer take aim at Rumple and moved swiftly towards him without thinking. She grabbed the bow, yanking it upward, and the arrow went arcing towards the ceiling, lodging in the stucco above. She quickly circled the man, took his quiver by cutting the strap with his own knife, which she had plucked from his belt, and flung it away as the archer began to lash out blindly with his bow in panic. He could not see her, but he knew there was something or someone there. She kept her distance and watched the rattled bowman retreat towards the stairwell. "Witchcraft…" she heard him gasp, "Witchcraft…!"

She searched about and found her husband holding his own some paces from where she had left him, near Snow and getting started on two of the soldiers that were attacking David. He had acquired a sword and was using both the blade as well as his magic to push back his aggressors with much force and agility.

Belle was almost sure he knew she was there, because all at once he seemed to be looking right back at her, and she saw the scowl he was giving her. She was no fool, so she minded herself and her baby carefully as she began to make her way through the back hallway towards the kitchen, having to dodge the hand to hand fighting all over the ground floor. She was going to leave the building to find out what was going on on the grounds and get a better picture. Perhaps she would be able to help close the gates. She came across Eric and some of his men near the open arched doorway to the kitchen and had to press against the walls firmly at one stage, hoping that no blow gone astray would strike her.

Suddenly, just as she passed the threshold to the kitchen, she unexpectedly felt a small cool hand take hold of her own. She shuddered, glanced down and saw Raven look up at her. "Can you see me?" she mumbled softly to the girl with hair as black as the crows' feathers she had helped her work into it that evening when they'd been sitting at the kitchen fire with Bertha. Raven nodded and tugged at her hand, urging her on.

They had soon reached the pantry and looked around for a second to make sure no one was watching, before Belle quietly opened the door just far enough for them both to slip inside. The entrance to the secret passageway was concealed behind several huge oak barrels at the far back near the outside wall containing turnips and beets. Raven seemed to know where they were going and helped Belle lift the heavy-boarded trap door in the floor so they could go down the narrow ladder that would lead them to the tunnels beneath the castle and to the encampment in the outer perimeter.

XXXxxxXXX

Robin was almost at the door, almost ready to close it. John was at his side, and there were now at least two dozen of Thomas' and Eric's soldiers helping them drive Willliam's men back out into the inner courtyard. The smell of sweat and blood was all-engrossing, and the overflow of adrenalin and the sight of all that death were turning the younger men's stomachs.

Just then, some windows shattered in the great hall, and eventhough Robin was sure the heavy wrought iron baring over the lower windows would prevent an easy entry, he could smell smoke.

XXXxxxXXX

"Oh my God," Belle whispered as she took in the sea of torches outside the outer perimeter from her viewing point on one of the smaller observation towers at the west gate. She could more hear than see horses and carts being drawn into position in the dim light. There had to be hundreds of them... She felt Raven still holding her hand tightly and observed that the girl was glaring intensely at the lights below.

Belle looked around again and saw that most of the refugees inside the outer walls were now up and making hurried preparations, quite a few of them already terrified enough to be heading away from the outer ring and up towards the still open gate of the inner defensives, carrying children and supporting their sick and old. There were a few of Eric's soldiers trying to keep them flowing, but there was danger of panic.

Some fifty loyal soldiers were now manning the towers after they had prevented a good dozen of William's men from opening the main gate, and there were another fifty archers readying themselves for their orders on the battlements – but that was _nothing_, they would be absolutely _no match _for the numbers King George was gathering beneath them, still just out of reach for most of Robin's bowmen.

She wondered for a moment why they weren't attacking yet. What were they waiting for?


	15. Chapter 15

15.

Bae parked the car on across the road from the beige SUV. He pocketed the keys, but they all left their doors ajar, afraid of the deafening noise a banging door would make in the silence of this ghost town that had once been Storybrooke. They would at least _try_ to get into the mausoleum without drawing too much attention to themselves, he decided.

Emma was still confused about the unlikely story Bae had dished her, but she was playing along and didn't really care what parts of it might be true and which ones he'd probably made up. Twelve year old boys were very improbable to be found at the center of any conspiracy to take over the country, no matter who or what their estranged grandparents were to this world, she thought.

She was only interested in finding Henry and hightailing it out of these spooky backwoods. She had taken her good friends Smith & Wesson with her to insure that they would. She checked the gun before they crossed the street and stepped onto the frosty grass to make sure the clip was full and sliding smoothly, eventhough she already knew it was.

It had been getting warmer during the day, and the heavy dark clouds in the sky were promising snow. Emma could always tell when it would snow, and she hoped to be taking Henry home soon, because the roads that had led them here were bound to be treacherous - nevermind the exigency they'd probably be making their exit at.

XXXxxxXXX

Morrigan could feel the Evil Queen's magic. She had known Regina would have to resort to it sooner or later. It was as though a switch had been flipped to turn on a cheap neon sign that was flickering to life with a buzz and a hum just after dark. This kind of magic was not clever at concealing itself; it was too new to the world. It had gotten her attention clumsily, and she could feel the awkward tingle of it waver through the air as she shape-shifted into a raven – a family thing – to soar above the cold lights of the human city she had been searching for the boy.

Dusk was impending, and the day was almost spent, wasted, but maybe she would be home by night. Home, where things were going to change once and for all. She would finally take her place, and no one was going to stop her, least of all the bumbling Queen of Confusion, who was at this moment trying to take back a spell she had botched on her own son. The attempt was so poor that it was making her ears ring all these miles away. She would simply crush Regina and take the boy's life and his gift from him along with the book. She didn't feel pity. Mercy was a useless trait that had certainly earned her mother what she'd had coming for centuries now.

Morrigan knew that the Queen had somehow managed to confine the Blue Fairy for the time being, but she was almost certain that _Ernmas_ would not be held captive by any means for long, so she might even have to deal with her mother at some stage this evening. The thought of just how she was going to do that kept her mind busy as she easily covered the distance through the leaden clouds.

XXXxxxXXX

Bae didn't carry fire arms on principle. He was thinking he would try to tackle Hook and Regina separately. They would need a diversion. He'd get Hook away from Regina and simply beat the shit out of him before the Evil Queen realized what was going on and had a chance to tie them up in any way. He'd been meaning to do that for a while.

Granted, dealing with Regina would be more challenging, but he'd think of something. She might have some nasty things in store for them if and when she felt threatened – and she would feel threatened if he could in any way precipitate that. He didn't think there would be any talking to her; she wasn't a very approachable person. Maybe he'd just beat the living daylights out of her, too. It probably didn't count as beating up a girl when there was a kidnapping involved. She wasn't a _girl_ in his book anyway, and it just might not bother his conscience at all anymore at this point.

Red was watching him debate with himself, and knowing him well enough by now, she wasn't sure if they were doing this right. He was going in there, no matter what she might say. Of course he would, because his son was at stake, but they didn't really have a plan, and both Bae and Emma had a tendency to jump head first into things that were beyond any of them. It was a comforting thought that they usually came out on top.

She was picking up different scents near the old building: Henry, whom she had taken in right away because she'd been in the car with Emma's Henry cinamon-and-chocolate smell for the last hours; Regina, whose rotten apple-and-old-flour smell she would have been repulsed by anywhere and anytime; Hook, whose rum-reek was getting her tipsy, and… what? What besides? There was something more, but she had no idea. She'd gotten a whiff of it before, both in Storybrooke and in the Enchanted Forest, but she couldn't think of whom to place it with. There was dust and there was wood, which was the one thing, and then there was something completely different as well: something earthy; a turfy mist over sea salt, sandstone rock, and even rough tides between the setting sun and a raging storm. There was an air of freedom on the winds and wide open space. Red was amazed and frightened by what she was getting. It was almost too much, and she was feeling a little meek and unimportant. She felt that a place charged with magic like this was bound to attract more of the same.

XXXxxxXXX

Morrigan was drawing closer to Storybrooke, and she dropped abruptly and decisively just as she reached the outskirts of the deserted town. She went down all the way to the mossy ground in the woods just beyond the first houses and fences, smoothly shifting into her true form as her feet touched the damp leaves that blanketed the earth between the tall pines. The stunning, huge black wolf bounded through the thicket without making a sound. Her ancient senses were showing her the way.

XXXxxxXXX

Bae pushed the heavy entrance door to the mausoleum all the way back on its hinges, peering inside cautiously. Hook had not even bothered to shut it firmly when he had left earlier, but who would closing that door have kept out? There were no wards on it, it seemed, and Bae was thinking that Regina was getting either really sloppy or delusional.

He had once seen his how his father had opened the stone tomb that served as a hidden entrance to the lower vault and groped around the rim of the memorial slab for the catch. He got Red to help him push the stone casket aside once he'd released it, revealing the narrow steps that led downwards into the crypt at a steep drop.

Emma didn't think she had ever seen anything like this in real life. She felt like there might be a hidden camera about someplace. Any minute now there would be a snappy TV show dressman telling her that she'd been had.

She followed Bae and Red into the depths of the tomb warily and was just a little unsettled by the fact that the casket moved back into its place above them of its own accord as they made their way down.

The first thing that genuinely shocked Emma, though, was the sight of the hogtied and gagged woman lying near the back of the low narrow underground room they were entering. She was unresponsive, but seemed to be breathing evenly, and Emma was about to get started on the ropes binding her when she burned her hands on them. Incredible as this was, the thick cords that were securing the limp but living body were so hot that she could not touch them. Bae pulled her away with some urgency, as she herself might have done with Henry some years ago if he had gotten too close to the fireworks on New Year's Eve.

"Leave her," he hissed. "She is the reason we're all in this mess, and whatever's been done to her is best left alone."

Emma couldn't believe what she was hearing, but she was starting to believe that there was something really weird going on. She considered for a moment, but since there was nothing she could do for that woman at this moment, she decided to take Bae's advice.

They heard low voices farther back in the surprisingly large complex and silently made their way towards the better-lit passage.

XXXxxxXXX

Regina was working fast, mixing her potion and so busy hoping to get it right that she didn't listen to her gut-notion, which was trying to tell her they was about to have company. She had become overtly aware of how fast time was moving on in this world, and it was making her frantic. She hadn't spared a single moment on wards that would not hold out the more unpleasant of the people that would have her burning at the stake if they could in any way accomplish it. Rumpelstiltskin's shifty offspring and that bail-bonds person who was convinced of having raised Henry would merely be irksome, and she was counting on her home advantage in dealing with them. Morrigan was a different matter, so she would just have to work faster.

Henry tried the doorway again. He got hit by a blue charge – again – and pulled back, rubbing his arm.

"You're only hurting yourself," she told him to his back without looking up. She'd been telling him that for the last twenty minutes, but he was persistent. Where ever did he get that from?

"And you're absolutely crazy," he shouted back at her. He was also repeating himself, but beginning to wonder, considering that he was presently locked in a tomb by a force-field that looked like it was straight from some science fiction movie together with a live wooden puppet and his father, as well as an evil witch that was pouring gaudy liquids from one beaker into the other and back… how did that sound familiar?

That book the old man had given to him this morning… He'd seen Geppetto take it from Regina and carry it into the small room earlier, treating it as though it was a very precious object needing be handled with the utmost care in the middle of all this craziness. Henry nearly bowled Pinocchio over when he turned, intent on scanning the small room for it, but the wooden boy was already holding the leather-bound volume up to him, smiling awkwardly. "You might find what you're looking for in here."

Geppetto sighed. "Leave him be, son. He doesn't remember." The old man was tired. And he was wondering why on earth Regina was keeping him and his boy there. The moment she had started working her magic was the moment she had turned herself into a magnet for the Wicked Witch, who would certainly be very eager to get here now. If he was lucky, she would not be bothered with him or Pinocchio. He didn't have much faith in what the Evil Queen was trying to do, and if she did not succeed, then his son's wooden appearance would be the least of his worries.

"It's alright," Henry replied mildly, taking the book from the puppet. He set it down at the other end of the stone table Regina was working on and began flipping the pages, diverting Regina's attention for a moment by doing so. He had soon found what he was looking for: a picture of the wooden boy.

He looked at the boy and then back at the page of the book entitled "Pinocchio". Two things – either he had taken a _really_ good hit in the head earlier, or there was something too strange for words _really_ going on here.

He decided to turn some more pages until he was back to the story he had been looking at in the library. He skimmed the text and considered the pictures intensely. Suddenly, it occurred to him that there were now more of them incorporated this tale, and some of them even seemed to have changed since this morning. How was that possible? It wasn't, but he knew what he was seeing, and he was mesmerized by the battle scene that was unfolding for him, taking him into the night or the very early hours of a defining day in a place he had never been before. He could smell the tar torches being thrown into the broken windows of the great hall in the old castle, and he was standing right beside the curtains that were lighting up in an instant. He could feel the heat of the fire and felt the need to step away from it, eventhough that meant moving towards the fierce fighting near the entrance to the hall. He somehow knew that he was unseen, invisible, as he walked past several men now fleeing from a great sorcerer, who was striking out at them with his sword and with his magic. He saw a younger man defending a beautiful dark haired woman with skin as pale as snow on the huge curved staircase…

Henry shook his head, feeling nauseous. He was barely all there when he heard a bang and a hiss at the entrance to the small room he was held captive in. He looked up from the picture and saw Emma gathering herself up off the stone-tiled floor, rubbing her shoulder. She was yelling his name. There were two more people he didn't know behind her. They were taking objects from the shelves in the walls and throwing them at the force-field, and the man was looking for something. Emma was calling to him, but he was somehow not ready to answer her yet… he was so consumed by the ink drawing in the book that he couldn't take his eyes off it for longer than a second.

Regina was pretty sure that Henry's biological parents would not be getting into this part of the burial chamber, and she was turning all her attention to him again now. He wasn't even aware of her as she moved behind him to get a better view of what he was looking at. She was still holding a beaker with something misty inside it. Maybe she would not be needing it. He had the heart of the truest believer after all, she thought.

XXXxxxXXX

The Blue Fairy, Ernmas, was lying on the cold hard stone floor of the vault, very slowly coming round. She had already broken through the salty shroud that Regina had contained her within at first, returning her to her human form. She was sure she would not be held by the spell that was binding her powers with ropes made from the burning fibers of the mountain ash for very much longer either. It would not be hard without Regina there to renew the enchantments on them anymore. She just had to stay awake and keep fighting the disabling effects of the rowan on her magic until she had loosened the – to her – toxic bonds enough to gather strength and rid herself of them. If she could just put a little distance between herself and the common man's remedy to dark magic, she'd not underestimate Regina again. Retrieving the book was imperative.

Much to her annoyance, she wasn't getting very far with the bonds, and she was still slipping in and out of consciousness frequently. Suddenly, a crashing noise tore her from her daze. The heavy door to the mausoleum had been sent flying from its frame, shattering it in two halves. She knew who this would be, as the the casket was moved and dreary daylight found its way into the vault.

"You could have used the handle," she stated offhand to Morrigan, her speech slurring, as her daughter moved silently down the stone-hewn steps towards her.

"But you know how I love dramatic entrances," Morrigan laughed.

She was yet undecisive as to which form she would be shifting to now. She had tried the Wicked Witch of the West, and it didn't suit her very well, all things considered - too much green. Next, she tried a beautiful young fairy with butterfly wings on for size, but it didn't please her well enough - too been-there-done-that. The Blue Fairy outfit she tried after that made her pull a face. In the end, she settled for the drunken-pirate-look: a perfect Killian Jones, hook inclusive.

"This'll do," she smiled, leaning down to her mother briefly. "Don't wait up." A wave of her finger tied Ernmas' ropes back on more securely, and Ernmas moaned as she felt them singe her skin to the point of boiling the blood beneath it. Morrigan's smile widened.


	16. Chapter 16

16.

Several of Robin's men were tearing down the heavy burning curtains in the great hall and struggling to smother the flames. Thick smoke was hampering their sight and making it hard to breathe. One of the younger men had charred his arm badly, but they were all doing what they could.

No one had succeeded in closing the gate to the inner courtyard, but a meager trickle of Thomas' men had finally made it through to them. These weren't the reinforcements they'd been hoping for, Robin noted, and none of these men had had even seen Will Scarlet, whom he had sent. Why was that? And why wasn't he back yet? There could be any number of reasons, but Robin tried to put them to the back of his mind. He was now almost sure that they would be numerous and capable enough to handle the castle at this moment.

Rumpelstiltskin was observing more and more of William's soldiers retreating from their lost cause and running into the courtyard as he struck down the last of the men still trying to break through to the lower stairwell. A wave of relief washed over him as he looked around the hall. There was blood seeping from a superficial wound on his arm, but he didn't notice and he didn't care. Otherwise, he was unscathed. He forced himself to take a few slow breaths and lower his sword, but he wasn't about to drop it to the floor as Eric had somewhere close by; he was not foolish enough to think that this night was over or that they would all survive it. He hadn't yet encountered the spiritual father of this little skirmish, and was thinking that William might not have dreamed this up all on his own. He was certainly going to find him and make him wish he had never returned to the Enchanted World.

He watched Robin, John and a sturdy older man he couldn't quite place brusquely clear several lifeless bodies out of the path so that they could finally close and bolt the main entrance doors. That having been done, things were very much calming all around them. It was as though darkness was taking the space in between two heartbeats to mourn the dead at his feet, because he couldn't do so himself yet. He was surrounded by friends and allies, but there was a moment when he felt as though he was here all alone, lost in this place and time, bearing witness to the shadow of a greater power coming silently for the souls of the fallen.

When time began to move forward again, Rumple was genuinely glad to find David still standing up and obviously unhurt. The younger man's face and shirt were covered in blood, his eyes fierce and wild, and the sorcerer saw that he was exhausted. There was no time for that now, though. Rumple was almost certain that David had never been involved in combat like this before. David wasn't in any way like his brother, James, but he had earned his title tonight all the same. Rumple gave him a slow nod of acknowledgement and a moment to steady himself and cool off.

"You have to get some men down to the armory," he finally ordered his shepherd prince, who would never again be just that. Then, his eye caught something David had not yet taken in, and his voice became more moderate, almost gentle with the young man. "Best have your wife take them there and stay put. She knows our people and could help with the distribution."

David was hearing him, and he spun around to look for Snow. He found her sitting halfway down on the stairs. There were three men sprawled dead on the steps by her feet and another five or six that he'd kept off her just minutes before lay a little farther below. The sight of her broke his heart. It didn't matter that these soldiers would have taken her life in an instant.

She was leaning against the wall, bent over and forlorn, staring at the corpses of the men she had slain. She was still barely holding on to her bloodied blade. The adrenalin rush in her veins was abruptly receding, and she was spiraling towards depletion. The color was leaking from her face, but right now, she was still perceptive of him as he moved towards her.

Snow had seen death before and she'd even killed, but looking around now, in the eerie hush that was descending upon them inside the castle itself, David realized that she, being who she was, would not be able to close her eyes and find peace again in sleep for a long time to come.

Some of the women from the servants' quarters were now about, helping the wounded or smoothing those beyond help in their passing, while some of Thomas' men were swiftly and silently taking on the terrible task of bringing the dead to wherever it was that Rumple had just ordered them to.

Charming quickly decided that the sorcerer was right; he had to get Snow on her feet and out of here while she was still responsive. She needed to be doing something other than loose herself in all of this. He knew he couldn't stay with her, and it was tearing him apart, but Robin's and Eric's men had already got started on thoroughly searching and locking down the castle, so they would have to begin a systematic survey of the grounds shortly.

He spoke to her softly and helped her to her feet. Having been told the armory was secure, he assigned three guards to her and made sure they were on their way.

XXXxxxXXX

Lord William was not waiting for Rumple to come find him. By the time Rumple, Robin and David were leaving the castle and entering the inner courtyard, surrounded by a well-armed guard of about twenty, he was well on his way through the darkness to the outer gates. He had not taken a torch with him, and he had stolen some peasant's threadbare brown cloak to hide his armor's insignia. Nobody was paying him much attention, he was relieved to note, and he was keeping his head down.

The cowardly nobleman had watched a whole lot of his people fall from a safe distance and wasn't at all keen on joining them. His hopes fell when he observed that the outer gates had not been opened, but he knew why immediately when he saw more of his soldiers' bodies on the ground near the perimeter – he simply hadn't given Robin Hood and his hoard of rogues enough credit.

The old man was sure he couldn't work the gates' mechanism swiftly enough by himself to go unnoticed, but he wasn't about to stand around and wait for his whipping. He'd be needing help, he decided, just as he almost went crashing into Will Scarlett. Will didn't recognize him right away, but when he did, an evil smile crept over his face.

XXXxxxXXX

Belle was anxious to get back to the castle. She hadn't planned on still being here, but she hadn't dared to and leave yet because there were so many soldiers hurrying about near the concealed entrance to the secret tunnel at the foot of the sentry tower. She would not be visible to any of these men, but Raven would.

The girl knew what Belle was thinking, and she needed to tell her that she wouldn't have to worry, but she didn't know how. She looked up at the beautiful young woman and couldn't help but marvel at the golden light she was emitting in all this darkness. Raven was the only one who could see, and _feel_, the warm glow of Belle's skin, even underneath the expanse of her enchanted cloak. Wondrous treasures and grave inhumanities were, sometimes, only a heartbeat apart.

Belle's anxious blue eyes blazed for a split second, as she cast them down upon Raven, considering their options. "We need to get back," she whispered, trying not to sound disquieted.

Raven squeezed her hand in a good-bye and let go, stepping back from her. Belle didn't quite understand yet.

"We have to go," she urged, trying for Raven's hand again, "It's not safe here." The child wouldn't let Belle touch her, and so Belle kept her distance, but took down the hood of her cloak and bent down to be able to see the girl's face better. "You can't stay here," she argued softly, but Raven shook her head, gesturing her to leave.

A quick glance at the clusterings of torchlight near the castle told Belle that the steady influx of people towards what they were assuming would be the safety of the inner walls was not letting up – on the contrary. By now they had all either seen or been told what was in store outside the grounds, and they were scared. She wasn't sure if they shouldn't be just as afraid of what was happening up at the castle, though. Belle hated not knowing what was going on up there, and she could only hope that everyone she loved was safe and unhurt.

Belle found that she was shivering with cold and fatigue. The ring on her finger tempted her to make use of it for an instant, but she knew she would not be doing so. She really wished for her cell phone back right now.

"Alright," she heard herself give in to the girl. There would be no safe place for any of them at all, perhaps, so she might as well let Raven have her way. "You stay here. Don't go away. I will be back for you as soon as I can." Where had she heard that herself, earlier? "You know which way I went if you should change your mind."

Raven seemed to be alright with that and nodded, looking into Belle's intense eyes again, strangely feeling that the sorcerer's wife would be just fine. When Belle had left the tiny landing they had inhabited for the last thirty minutes, the child moved out towards the arrow slit again and tried to guess how many soldiers they had been looking at. It was beyond her, but she was not overtly worried. She was only waiting patiently for darkness to subside and give way to the light of dawn. She needed the first rays of daybreak to work her intents.

Belle heard Will Scarlet and another man talking in hushed voices while she was hurrying down the stone-hewn steps. She knew Will by his unmistakable dialect, and she was relieved that it was only him. He wasn't a very loveable man, but she could deal with the "not very loveable" and find something good even in the most gruff and querulous characters of both this world and the other. She'd considered Will to be mostly trustworthy.

She found out just how wrong she'd been about that when she saw whose company he was keeping. Her heart began to race, and she was feeling sick as she realized that she was not wearing her hood. It was too late – Will was already grabbing her and pinning her arms to her sides painfully while Lord William was still gaping. She clenched both fists briefly, struggling, and then began to rub the ring on her finger with the tip of her thumb, as though that might help increase the pitch of her attempt to reach out to Rumple. Now was definitely a good time to be using her visual beeper, she thought

"Milady!" Lord William smirked, as he realized that his fortunes had just undergone a turn for the better. "You really shouldn't be here. It's not _safe_, you know."

XXXxxxXXX

They had only taken the time necessary to don their chain armors and chose their weapons before they started making their way across the courtyard towards the gates. Robin was scanning the crowded enclosure as best he could, wondering what had become of Will. He was worried that his friend might have been killed or captured in the meantime. He'd known him for years, and the man was both fast and furious. Normally, he could take care of himself _extremely_ well, not being much of a team-player, but generally coming through for the greater cause. Eventhough he could be a trial to live and work with sometimes, Robin was blaming himself for having sent Will to his fate alone.

David was worried about Snow as they were pushing through the masses. He was sure she would be safe within the castle, but he was having trouble keeping his mind on the present, pressing situation. He didn't feel that he should really be here in any way at the helm of this at all. He had never dreamed of slaying dragons, and he had certainly never had the burning desire to be prince of anything or anyone, slaying men that had wives and children, or slicing off limbs that they would have needed to be able to sustain them.

He had nearly gotten them all killed in Neverland, and he had led them all into disaster in the woods, and, weary as he was, his arms and legs cramping, he might again make a mistake that would cost them all their lives tonight. How Snow had ever come to see _anything _royal in him, he would never understand.

Eric was alert and eager to get to the outer walls. His heart rate still hadn't slowed much. He was glad to find that his friend, Thomas, was on the other side of the courtyard, alive and well, though tardy. Having missed out on most of the fun would probably be irking him, but he couldn't see his face very well. Three or four fires had bin lit in the courtyard and were giving off some light, but it wasn't enough for him to observe what Robin was already getting a bad feeling about in the pit of his stomach.

Rumple was looking up and carefully scrutinizing the lower guard's walkway on the inner side of the defensive wall. It was roofed, and the fires were not illuminating it well, but he could see soldiers on it. Some facing the yard, overlooking the crowds. Others were manning the embrasures. Most of them were armed with crossbows.

No one but Robin saw the archer directly above the gates turn from his arrow slit suddenly to face them and take aim at Rumple. Without further consideration and in one swift motion, Robin stepped out in front of the sorcerer and took the hit in his stead. He had no other way of protecting their _best chance_. He knew that Rumpelstiltskin was vulnerable. The sorcerer could not only bleed – he could die, and if that happened, they all might be at their last card here tonight. Robin was sure that he was doing the right thing, but it was hard all the same as he felt the metal arrowhead impale his windpipe via his carotid artery. His knees gave in, and he thought of Roland, knowing that his son would be taken care of. He wasn't afraid for himself either. His conscience was clear.

People were screaming, and there was mayhem as Rumple caught hold of his captain, who was falling back against him, ashen-faced and bleeding heavily. He slowly and gently lowered the dying bowman to the ground, going to his knees along with him. Several of the guards were closing ranks and forming a tight protective circle around them as Eric, who thought he had seen the assassin take flight, motioned Thomas, and both men took off after the man, followed by half a dozen soldiers who had also been alerted what had just happened.

Rumple swiftly leaned forward and tried to assess the damage by the light of a torch that was now being held efficiently for him. He had to take a deep breath, but was quick to pull the arrow from Robin's neck without breaking the shaft. Instantly, bright red blood began pumping from the gaping lesion and leaking onto the cobblestones beneath them as well as bleeding into his lacerated windpipe and seeping into his lungs.

Robin's lips turned blue, and he was shaking uncontrollably. The sorcerer shifted so that he was sitting on his heels underneath Robin's torso, supporting his friend's limp body. He held Robin firmly from behind by putting his left arm across Robin's chest and clasping the archer's right arm in his left hand, while at the same time pressing the palm of his right hand to his fatal wound.

Rumpelstiltskin closed his eyes for a moment, blocking out everything else and channeling the burning rage inside of him. He needed to stall time for the space of one fraction so he could concentrate. A few moments later, rays of green light protruded from Rumple's bloodied fingers. The bleeding ceased, and the skin under Robin's left ear started to close over.

He opened his eyes at the same time Robin's eyes were clearing. "No rest for the wicked, bowman," he told the archer, whose chest was beginning to rise and fall regularly. "Deal's a deal."

Rumple was on his feet the second he was sure that Robin was really coming to. He left his captain to John, who was already pulling him to his feet. The sorcerer was about to go after the assassin, but all at once, his ring began to glow a soft purple.

_BELLE! _something inside him screamed in alarm. He was gone in an instant.

XXXxxxXXX

Raven had almost reached the bottom of the stairway, worrying at having heard Belle cry out. She tried to make herself inconspicuous as she came within view of Will Scarlett, who was manhandling the sorcerer's wife. Things started to happen very fast from there.

Rumpelstiltskin appeared out of nowhere on the encampment, still far off, but behind the nobleman's back, so that he could not see the sorcerer break into a fierce run once he had identified them.

Lord William was grinning menacingly at Belle and picturing the mess he was going to make of her pretty face with his dagger, when Will, who well knew what the Dark One was capable of, realized what was probably about to happen instead. He began to retreat rashly, weighing his options and pulling Belle along with him. She wasn't prepared and lost her footing, stumbled and obstructed him.

Raven watched as the outer layers of Belle's golden haze began to turn black, scale off, and start to turn on Will, seizing and attacking him as a vicious swarm of bees might. He let go of her and tried desperately to fend them off, yelping in torment as he thrashed about blindly.

The nobleman pulled his dagger from his belt, not understanding what was happening, and tried to get a hold of Belle. He was set on at least getting one moment of satisfaction out of this in exchange for his humiliation, but suddenly, he felt as though he'd been struck by lightnening. He jerked and cried out, involuntarily dropping his blade as Belle's hands moved upwards, palms outward in a defensive stance.

Rumpelstiltskin was still some distance off as Lord William doubled over in agony and sank to his knees before Belle, consumed with misery and fear .

It took Raven a moment to realize that Belle was being shielded so well, she didn't even really perceive what she was doing. She would have stopped it, if she had. Kind and gentle Belle would not have watched the old man grovel for his life in the mud. This wasn't Belle. But it wasn't the sorcerer either.

Presently, Lord William stopped begging. His body turned into what appeared to be a sandstone statue. It started crumbling away bit by bit, as though time had speeded up, seconds becoming centuries, and the statue turned into a relict from some ancient past, aeons away. A cold wind carried off parts and pieces of what remained of the nobleman, slowly at first, then gathering gusto and finally ablating him until no trace was left behind.

Belle wasn't sure what she was witnessing as she felt her stomach cramp in horror. She was thinking that Rumpelstiltskin, the Dark One, was doing something to Lord William, but she couldn't even make out Rumple's face very clearly in the dark as he was running towards her, calling to her. If she had, she would have seen the dread and disbelief in his eyes.

She spun around, searching for Will Scarlet and located him lying on the ground, not moving. Her mouth had gone dry, and was feeling sick to the point of retching. The blackness that had taken Will was dispersing and fading to a grey shroud. His gaze seemed to be fixed at something, but the life had gone out of him completely, and she realized that he was beyond help.

Raven watched as Rumple enveloped Belle in his arms and gently forced her to stop looking at Will.

Belle was confused, and she allowed him to take her face in his hands tenderly, letting herself be carried into his mind by his gaze for an unguarded second.

She would have been safe enough there, Raven thought pityingly, as she watched the sorcerer try to take the last minutes of his wife's memory away and replace them with a loving embrace. Her golden haze had already begun to grow faint, but then, surprisingly to Rumple, Belle tore away. Raven had known she would.

The girl heard the young woman cry out in grief and anguish again and again. She saw Rumpelstiltskin struggle to keep a hold of his screaming wife and felt deeply sorry for the pain they were sharing. She could well understand its icy black sting. Nothing had ever let her forget her own first encounter with it or the way it had scorched her soul to its very core.

The first grey slivers of light on the horizon that would finally put an end to this wretched night distracted Raven from her human emotions. Most of the armed soldiers standing watch on the wall or gaping at the scene that had just unfolded below were oblivious to it as yet, but she knew she would now need to show herself, and began climbing the wooden steps leading to the guard's walkway right behind the crenellations. Dawn was almost upon them, and there was something she could still do for the sorcerer and his wife now.


	17. Chapter 17

**This chapter took me a while longer, but it was great fun to get into this kind of descriptive writing.**

**I decided to move away from what imagery the show has been giving us on the Dark Castle, turning it into an earlier European stronghold that would possibly withstand the siege that's coming. I gave Red's wolf an ability she didn't have before, and while Snow is safely tucked away in the armory, you'd need to watch out for Hook...**

**Thanks to everyone who's still with me on this and taking the time to review.****  
**

**A very special thank you to cynicsquest for good discussions and the great job she did "beta-ing" this for me. **

17.

Rumpelstiltskin was walking Belle past the armed guards at the gates, heading for the wooden stairs that would take them to the narrow upper walkway on the wall where Raven stood. She had calmed down, but he was not letting go of her, and she was glad. She observed the way some of the archers and soldiers were looking at her, even backing away from them both uneasily as they passed them by.

They climbed the wooden steps, and she became aware of the gathering troops that had already commenced coming down from the castle and the encampment now. She estimated that a little more than a hundred and fifty men would be armed and ready on the killing grounds in between the inner and outer wards in the next few minutes. How had all this happened within the space of an hour? How had all this gone so wrong after everything they'd all been through and survived? Why were they being attacked by people that had been their neighbors in Storybrooke? She had just caused the death of two people, and she was totally blighted as she looked around to find nothing but fear and cold anticipation of death about her.

Stones and small rocks, lances and several barrels of flammable putty were being readied at the "Moerderloch", the murderhole of the gatehouse at this wall, and she guessed that they would be doing the same on the inner gate. Around sixty archers were in position at regular intervals behind the merlots up on the battlements, a few dozen more than up at the castle.

Rumple didn't speak as they made their way along the parapet. They were not yet anywhere within range of their enemies' weaponry, so he was not afraid to stand in plain sight and survey their opponents' numbers and means as increasing visibility permitted it. He was still holding Belle's hand, not even thinking of letting go.

She stood beside him, wishing she could just pull the hood of her cloak down over her face and vanish. The cold grey light of dawn was playing tricks on her eyes and made unreal images of misshapen creatures appear and disappear on the fields between the forest and the wall. It was strange, but darkness felt better to her than this did. At one point, she turned to look back at the castle, and she was sure she could see ghostly shapes form and rise from the rooftops, but she told herself that it was only smoke. She chose to believe that it was.

Hundreds of torches were being extinguished one by one as night gave way to day, and the tar fumes they emitted were lingering in the cold, damp air, sickening her. She had a hard time staying on her feet, even though Rumple was supporting her again. His anxiety was tangible, and she was sorry to be a significant part of his worrying right now: he really needed to focus on what was going on around them. She was sure he would want her to be safe and out of harm's way, and she guessed that he would like her to be out of _his_ way, too, when the going got tough, as it was about to. She wasn't going to make it back to the castle alone in the state she was in, though.

Belle could now see and place the colors that were flying on tent-poles and lances over on the campsite were those of King George. Charming had just joined them and she heard him swearing under his breath, cursing the day they had allowed his brother's adopted father to escape them in Storybrooke. He was thinking that he could have prevented what was coming, but Belle was certain that he could not have. There was a difference between David his twin, who had been raised by George: David was no murderer and never would be.

The fact that Rumple had done business with King George on and off for a long time before they had come to Storybrooke was nothing Belle hadn't known about. She had often heard of the king's malignance; George was a man who had ruled his kingdom much in the way Regina had – by spreading fear and crushing his adversaries mercilessly. He'd also been bankrupting it by taking its farmers to war instead of having them work his fields. Granted, a mysterious plague of dragons had also been hampering the farming a little in his particular kingdom, but from what Belle knew of George, perhaps he just enjoyed sending people to their deaths as a means of intimidation and distraction from the problems at hand. A long war and a consistent number of executions of any deserters would always serve nicely to keep the peasants' minds and hands busy. The odd profitable siege, an ostentatious tournament or a good dragon-slaying for the benefit of the more influential citizens had been considerably better sport than putting work into the humanitarian issues of a people one did not identify with or care for. It was a common mistake even her own father had made on occasion, if a little less adamantly than other kings in the Enchanted World.

The hearts of many absolute monarchs had been corrupted by their status in this world and age. It had never in any way surprised her that a simple man of no standing, suddenly touched by magic, such as Rumpelstiltskin had been, would have been repulsed by any of this realm's rulers after a lifetime of kneeling to them and bleeding for them.

Yet the Dark One had done his dealings with George, and he had never once tried to vanquish the regime he had so detested when he could have, given the powers he'd had. He'd simply and quietly taken his vengeance by undermining it. He'd played his games with him just as he had done with every king and queen in this world for centuries, trading and bargaining his way through the years and generations until he had found what he had been looking for at the time and place he'd found David and Snow in. Belle watched him observe Charming attentively – the shepherd that would be the next king of this land at Snow's side if they could survive this.

These last weeks had been a first for Rumple in that it had been several lifetimes since he'd felt compelled to take responsibility for anyone or anything else besides himself. It couldn't be easy for him. Yet, here he was, making made a stand with a handful of people, tearing through the shroud of nasty habits and beliefs that he'd built his life upon, facing battle; a battle that would decide whether thirty years of living in peace under the curse would leave an echo or just fade to nothing and die here this early morning.

Rumple cleared his throat and factually stated what they were both thinking. "There are a lot of people out there that could well be on this side of the wall if they hadn't run into George first or thought they'd had a choice now."

"There are," David replied, looking at his feet. He was convinced that there would be no agreeing on any kind of a truce with George, simply because it was _him_ standing on this side of the wall, and for that reason alone, good men were going to their graves today. His "father" wanted back to where they'd all stood before Regina had shot them out of this dimension and reclaim the kingdom. Belle could see that David didn't want to think about it any further.

"Can we hold…?" the prince asked Rumple softly, diffidently, so that she could barely just hear.

XXXxxxXXX

Red felt the hair on the back of her neck stand on end. They had all heard what was probably the entrance door to the mausoleum shattering to pieces, so they were definitely in trouble. Her senses were telling her that she needed to shift: she would be no help to anyone in her human form. She'd felt helpless and useless like this in any world lately. Red needed her wolf, so she allowed it to take control of her once again, turning her into something so much more than she had been since they'd arrived back to this world. It felt good to know that she would not be standing by when whatever was coming down on them did.

Emma couldn't fathom what was going on. Henry was in the other room, right in front of her on the other side of some kind of force-field, and although she was sure he could both see and hear her, he wasn't responding. There was no getting through the ward on the entrance. It seemed to be implementing electrical charges to keep them out of the small secluded section of the tomb that held Henry and several other people.

Aside from being fazed by the disturbing child in the bizzare costume at the far end of that room in between her painful attempts to break through the voltage-field, she could make out that Henry was hunched over at one end of a stone slab mounted on some casket with experimental set-ups in the center of the room. He seemed to be alright, but he was totally, and to Emma absurdly, absorbed in some leather-bound book that was lying open in front of him. Was he really reading? Now? _WHY?_

The dark woman she'd seen outside the library was creepily hovering over him, ostensibly calm and apparently encouraging him to keep concentrating on that book. He never once even looked up at Emma any time she screamed his name. Regina wasn't bothering to, either. It was as though she was invisible to everyone but the old man and that weird boy cowering in the far corner under some small compartment shelves. Emma tried to break through the force-field again by shoving against it as she might have done with a jammed door, but all she was doing was hurting herself.

From the corner of her eye she suddenly glimpsed Red going to her knees. It made her look more closely at the younger woman, and what she saw startled her: Red was now down on all fours, and she looked like she was going to black out. Emma was torn, but she was about to try to go and help Red when Bae stopped her, holding her back firmly.

"Don't," he breathed in her ear, "Don't touch her while she's changing, Emma."

Emma's breath caught. She leaned into Bae's arms, but she didn't fight him, completely rapt by what she was observing. Red's human body was smoothly and almost naturally morphing into a magnificent dark beast, and there was no struggle, no resistance, nothing laborious about it. Emma had never seen a live wolf outside of a zoo before, never mind any person she had shared a sandwich with turning into one. She couldn't make herself look away. The young woman's clothing was torn to shreds and fell to the stone floor in tatters as she silently transformed all the way. Nothing remained of the slender woman that Emma had spent the best part of the day with. Deep amber eyes gazed at them sublimely before the stunning wolf slowly crossed the floor and turned the corner towards the main burial chamber.

XXXxxxXXX

Henry was lost in the picture of a girl no older than himself standing up on the battlements of a medieval outer curtain wall at the break of day. All at once, he could feel his here and now slip away from him, and a part of him was there with her, facing the army that was moving in on the castle. "I'm there," Henry mumbled half to himself, exhaling a white puff of Storybrooke crypt-air into the cold reality of the Enchanted World. "It's awesome…"

Regina was looking at the book over his shoulder and taking in the scene that was unfolding for her now, too. She was absolutely sure that the Dark One's castle under siege was not the place she wanted them both to be right now, but it was Henry's portal, and he was the only one who could access it, so, ultimately, he decided where their journey would end. Plus, they were definitely not staying here. They were running out of time. She could hear a wolf howling in pain and had no intention of meeting the creature that was making it do that. All Henry had to do was open his mind a tiny fraction more, pushing the lesion in this dimension just a little bit further apart so it would create a gap that could afford their passage.

XXXxxxXXX

It had started snowing again lightly as the air warmed with each passing minute into daylight. Raven was standing close to Belle. She was watching the leaden sky, calling _them_. They would come. She relished the cool caress of this winter morning on her skin as weightless white flakes melted on her face upon touching it, and she could almost feel the air under their wings, as they drew closer.

Raven considered the archers maneuvering into position in the front of an infantry formation on the fields below them. They were only partly being shielded by a vanguard, but it would do them no good in any case. She noted that the sorcerer himself was calling to someone or something much in the way that she had, but she couldn't see his thoughts clearly.

Suddenly, something was different. The girl could sense that someone else was there with them – someone that had not been called and did not belong – and she turned to find herself face to face with Henry.

She would have liked to ask him where he had come from, but she couldn't, because she had no words. Since no one else seemed to notice the boy, she decided that his presence here had to mean something, and she set about getting the sorcerer's attention by going around Belle and insistently taking his arm.

Instead of being annoyed, Rumpelstiltskin went along with her. He'd felt something change, too. To him, it felt as though an icy wind was piercing his skin, and the girl he knew from another life as _Rowe_ was telling him that there was a need to pay attention. He followed her eyes with his own, trying to make out what she was showing him. Then he caught side of a dark-haired teenage boy in the whirl of dancing snowflakes.

It took the sorcerer a moment to realize that the translucent shape was his grandson Henry, the boy that had the heart of the Truest Believer. There was no way he could be here – but he was.

David had not caught what was happening on this side of the wall, and he was irritated because Rumpelstiltskin wasn't listening to him or answering his questions anymore when he so needed him to. Having no magic, he failed to see what the older man was looking at, try as he may. To him, there was nothing there. The pressing issues were out by the forest, and he was giving them his full attention. He could only hope that the sorcerer wouldn't be taking his time with whatever was keeping him.

"Henry," Rumple whispered, oblivious to anyone or anything else around him for the moment. He now knew that had not been mistaken in the great hall. He _had_ seen the boy there, because he was seeing him, or a projection of him, here now. And if Henry was here, then there had to be a passageway between their worlds. "Are you alright, my boy?"

"No, not really," Henry replied nervously, his eyes narrow and his mind rallying. Lately, a lot of people he had no memory of seemed to know him quite well. He struggled to size up the situation and the dark magician he'd seen before in the great hall. Despite everything, he was fairly certain that he didn't have much of a choice but to trust this stranger, who was obviously in the middle of a battle, but still giving _him_ attention, as though one Henry Swan might be significant to someone who was as powerful as the book indicated he was. The slender man in armor actually had worry-lines on his distinctly-featured face while speaking to him, and he was the only other person apart from the girl who could see him here. He'd seen him fight men twice his size and hurl both objects and armed soldiers through the great hall of his castle using his hands to conduct the magic he obviously had – Henry was both intimidated and drawn in by Rumpelstiltskin.

Rumple could see that Henry was hesitating, even though he'd so badly need to speed things up. The boy was shivering with cold and insecurity. On top of all that, he appeared to be terribly lost, and heavens, did he know that feeling. He tried to touch Henry's shoulder in an assuring manner, but instantly burned himself badly as his hand went through the translucent shape of the teenager Henry had become. By that, he gathered that boy had to be at least one conduit of the gateway that had brought him to this world. Whatever it was that had prevented the Dark One from going near the portal Bae had entered in the tunnels, it was now keeping him from even touching the boy who was halfway between here and there.

Henry noted what had just happened, but he couldn't assess the implications. He spun around, observing the alarming things that only he could see happening in his own Storybrooke reality. He had no idea which place and time was more threatening.

The sorcerer ignored the angry reddening of his hand. "Henry, tell me what's going on where you are," he demanded. Henry's eyes were wide, as he turned back to find Rumple and refocus, and Rumple could see that the boy was scared witless.

There was a ripple in the air as he as began to fade from the Enchanted World. "There's something after me," Henry yelled, aware that he might not be able to elaborate on that.

Rumple cast a quick glance over the wall from in between the merlots and saw that time was getting away from him on both fronts. He closed his eyes and tried to stall it, but he was only scrounging for moments. Keeping his distance, he attempted to get into Henry's mind, trying to get him to focus promptly and firmly, but he wasn't even making a dent. Heaving a sigh, he decided to he'd have to take the detour and resort to more grounded means. "Quickly," he urged, "this is so very important – look around and tell me who's with you and what you can see."

It had not escaped Belle that Rumple was speaking to someone she wasn't aware of. She noted with concern that his hand was scorched, and she began concentrating on the apparently unoccupied space both he and Raven were apprehensively gazing at. It wasn't long before she thought she'd caught a strange layering of snowflakes over a glimmer in the air: something was materializing. She looked up from it to see that Raven's eyes were on her now, and an overwhelmingly warming sensation in her chest again set in motion something she had no real control over yet. She could not begin to explain or handle it, and it was frightening her profoundly. Yet it was there, whether she wanted it to be or not, and it was, the moment she embraced it, making her stronger and sharpening her senses. Slowly, a boy she recognized began to manifest for her. Her heart went out to Rumple, understanding what must be going on inside of him.

To her, Henry was barely just there. He seemed to be scrutinizing his surroundings, but he didn't perceive the same things Rumple, she or even Raven were. She couldn't begin to guess what he was looking at in his dimension, but she needed to find out as fast as she could, because it wasn't anything good, going by the harried expression on his face.

Henry was becoming aware that the force-field in the mausoleum was diminishing. His mother and the man that was with her went crashing through the doorway towards him the moment it failed completely, shouting something at him.

"I'm with a woman called Regina," he blurted to the sorcerer, as he watched the Evil Queen take a hit of what might have been ball-lightening from outside the room. Emma had to shove him sideways to keep her from falling over them both, but he somehow managed to stay within the intermediate space between Storybrooke and the Dark Castle. "My Mom is here, and a man with dark curly hair, and there's an old man and a wooden boy. A pirate, too. But there's a wolf coming for us, and there's a woman throwing fire, and she conjured snakes."

Henry was stumbling through his explanation as fast as he could, and Rumple was doing his best to listen very attentively. He was frantically trying to work out how to help the boy, but when he thought he had something and reached out to him a second time, he only came away with another handful of pain, snowflakes and air.

He managed to subdue the throbbing of his now blistering hand and cast another hasty glance past the crenellation just above his head. He delayed time once more with the greatest of effort. Returning his attention to Henry, he realized that he would not achieve a thing from here. The boy had to cross this threshold without his actively helping him to do so.

"Look at me!" he sternly insisted, while behind him David ordered his men to prepare their weapons. "Henry, don't be afraid. Concentrate on me!" He was hoping he could talk him through this far enough to be at least some help to him, but he could hardly even see him anymore at all. "_Look_ at me, boy!" he barked, but to no avail. Henry was slipping away.

Just then, Belle reached past him and placed one golden glowing hand on the boy, who startled and froze, becoming almost solid for a split second under her touch. He stared at her face, open-mouthed, and felt the incredible warmth that she was emitting. Rumple was also affected by it, and it took his breath away. He had to force himself to keep his mind on Henry.

"Tell me what object you are using to transcend realms," he demanded, placing his own hand on the boy's chest next to Belle's one more time without fear, set on trying to amplify and deepen the bond that was keeping him here. He was searing himself, but not as badly as before, and it was working, though he could see that Henry was almost panicking in the other dimension. He hoped that Belle's and his combined efforts would buy just one minute for them. Regina would be trying to protect Henry wherever they were, if nothing else, but Bae and Emma were probably also in danger, judging by what Henry had told him, and they would have no means of tapping into any magical defense for themselves. He could do nothing for any of them if he didn't get Henry to surpass himself and put a foot in the door to that gateway.

"It's a picture," Henry replied hastily. "A picture in a book of fairytales!"

Rumple didn't have to think about it; he could guess which one. And he was devastated to find that he knew little of the magic that Henry would need to unravel it, because it had not been _his_ magic. He did know, however, that Henry had _the heart of the Truest Believer_, and that his memories of life were unpolluted and good, even if they were false.

"Now listen carefully," he ordered the boy sharply, "you have to empty your mind completely and dive into this, Henry. You have to put your heart into it, not your mind. _Feel_ that you're able to and _believe_ that you can. You have to lose yourself in it, let it draw you in. It's magical and it can take you away from where you are and bring you here to me. _Believe_ that it will, my boy! Do it now, Henry, and I promise you that I'll do everything I can for you and your mother! I _will_ keep you safe."

Henry was faltering despite all their efforts. The sorcerer wasn't sure if the boy had understood or could accept what he was trying to tell him. You couldn't teach magic like this; this was no correspondence course on poetry or literature. He closed his eyes in dismay, raking his mind for anything more helpful; a cue, a spell, a significant word or tale to bridge the gap, _anything_.

On the left hand side of the gate, Eric was trying to estimate the remaining distance between them and the moving army on the fields below. He gestured to David, who ordered his archers to take aim as George's men began to close in. Eric was doing the same on his side. Seconds later, their first salve was almost completely falling short, and while the archers were getting ready again, David was almost sure he had clearly heard Rumpelstiltskin mention his grandson's name. That made absolutely no sense, and he really didn't have the time to find out what the man was up to, but it was making him nervous. He tried to put it out of his mind, and made a new estimation of the distance the bowmen's arrows would have to cover.

"Henry, I know you can do this. Follow your heart, no matter what your mind tells you," Rumple was willing the boy adamantly. "You have to feel it!"

Belle could almost taste the bitterness of her husband's helplessness in her own mouth at the sight of the boy fading to nothing now as his reality went crashing down around him. She closed her eyes, blocked out the cold and the deafening silence, and started to _pull_ Henry towards them, gently as she could, fearing that an unintentionally hasty movement might break up the connection she was trying so hard to keep hold of. She began to despair when she found that she couldn't do it, even though Rumple had immediately and painfully taken her lead, so there was only one other thing she _could_ do. She _pushed. _She shoved Henry _hard_, sending his apparition backwards through the portal – but without letting go of him. They both went cascading back to Storybrooke violently.

Belle could hear Rumple bellowing her name somewhere in the distance, but she'd deliberately taken him by surprise so that he had not been able to retain his grip on either of them. She had not intended him to, because she knew that Henry's world was forbidden to him. He needed to stay behind at the castle, and he was gone from her sight in an instant.

She suddenly found herself looking at Bae. He was next to her in the gloom of Regina's family burial chamber, trying to physically shield Henry, while Emma was firing her gun at the ferocious mess of poisonous snakes that was spilling into the room and slithering across the floor towards them. He didn't seem surprised to find her there, and gave her a very quick nod, which she silently returned, already taking in the layout of the room and the people in it.

Regina was using her magic and mumbling protection spells in an attempt to block the ball-lightening and fire that was coming at them from the outer hallway with force. She was trying to retaliate by bouncing it, but putting up another ward was almost beyond her at this point because she could not do both.

Geppetto was using a broom to keep back the hungry reptiles that had gotten past Emma, and Pinocchio crouched on the table next to the book. Henry was still staring at it, but looked up and realized that Belle was there, giving him her undivided attention.

He looked up at her in quiet bewilderment, taking in the golden luminosity all around her. She bent down slightly and pressed her palm gently to his cheek, gazing deeply into his eyes. A tiny little bit of the glimmering haze radiated off her, and he felt it pass into him ever so tenderly. It was next to nothing, but it warmed him through and through, bringing something ancient to life in his heart, fleetingly filling it with a mere fraction of an ounce of old wisdom while at the same time emptying it all out again in a manner that was neither pleasant nor frightening. Just as he thought he could grasp it for what it was, it left him again.

He kept looking into the entrancing eyes of the woman at his side, and in doing so, he found that he could place her and remembered her name. Abruptly and with a jolt, things he hadn't realized he'd forgotten were coming back to him. This was Belle. She was Mr. Gold's girlfriend. He'd always thought that she was pretty, but she was ever so much more at this moment, in some magical way, and it made him think something was entirely different about her.

He remembered her breaking down on the street after Mr. Gold – _his grandfather_ – had called for his shadow to bring him the dagger he'd used on Pan and himself. Everything that had happened was suddenly there again, and it was hitting him with the force of a sledgehammer. His head was spinning, his heart was racing, and his palms were sweaty as he rested them on the stone slab on either side of the book once more, feeling dizzy as Belle gradually let go of his mind.

He knew what he had to do – his grandfather had just told him, and Belle had followed him here to repeat the instructions to him and make him remember how. It was up to _him_ to get them all out of here, because he was not the one that needed to be saved anymore; he would finally be contributing something tangible, he would finally be playing his part.

XXXxxxXXX

Rumpelstiltskin understood that his wife had done what she'd deemed necessary. That didn't mean he had to like it. For the first time since he'd known Belle he was really angry with her. He loved her deeply and truly, but he was mad at her because not only had she gone this alone, but she'd purposely left him behind here with no way of protecting her anymore.

He heard David and Eric bark orders for the second salve of arrows that instantaneously went flying high into the sky, describing a perfect arch, and pelting downwards again heavily. He got to his feet and noticed Raven up on one of the crenellations nearby. She was spreading her arms and looking at the sky as the high-pitched whine of arrows in flight subsided, turning into a battering on wooden shields as the deadly hail went down on the opposing army, lethally meeting its mark. There were screams, and men were going down clutching at the arrows that were impaling them or dying of their fatal injuries, and he could tell the opposing archers were already gearing up and raising their bows. They would be firing back presently, having found out that they were now certainly within range.

Magic and wards against troubles caused by magic was one thing, but there was not much he could do against human hostilities besides trying to cast a deflection spell that would keep the men on his battlements from being skewered by their enemies' return-fire – to a point. However, he had to be able to see what he was refracting to work a spell like that correctly, so it was bound to be a close call. Also, he was still waiting for an old friend, to whom he had called for help.

He was already thinking of the precise incantation, while at the same time putting his arm around the girl's waist to get her down off the wall to safety, when the sky above them started darkening. He stopped short and looked up apprehensively. An awesome and unexpected sight met his eyes and drew a slow smile from his lips as he realized what Raven had been up to. She smiled back at him briefly.

XXXxxxXXX

Belle was becoming fully aware of her surroundings again, and she observed that Emma was close to hyperventilating. She'd held up unexpectedly well so far, but this was way too much for anyone who'd woken up to toast and coffee in the World Without Magic this morning. Snow's daughter had already emptied the spare clip of her gun into the unceasing, sliding stream of serpents that were going at them viciously, and she could see that Emma could not imagine how they were going to get out of this.

Belle observed Hook standing very still near the entrance of the small room, on the verge of being savaged by Red in wolf-form, snarling and ready to jump on him. She didn't know that the real Killian Jones was actually sitting at the bar of the Rabbit Hole at this very moment, getting even more totally smashed, if that was at all possible, and briefly wondered what Hook had done to set Red upon himself this time. She was presuming another unpropitious merger with the wrong side at the center of her aggression, but her were-friend knew better because she'd sensed that this was not Jones. She had sustained several badly bleeding injuries, but she was still on her feet, and Hook was definitely too irrelevant to waste her time, so Belle was not about to concern herself with him further.

She thought that she needed to stay close to the boy right now – especially since she could see that Regina was at the end of her rope, and Ernmas seemed to be in no way inclined to retreat merely from what the Evil Queen was throwing at her.

Belle hadn't known the Blue Fairy from the Enchanted World, and she hardly recognized her as Mother Superior now that she had arduously and at some cost freed herself of her scorching rowan manacles. The creature she saw advancing towards them didn't have much in common with Storybrooke's prioress anymore. The only remnant of the so very nondescript and inconspicuous nun she'd been was the tattered habit that still flapped around her skeletal form. Beyond that, there was nothing nice or benevolent about Ernmas' appearance anymore. She'd lost most of her reserves and had involuntarily taken on the shape of an old woman with long but wispy white hair, gaunt, haggard and bent with the millennia of her existence. Her green eyes blazed in their hollows and needle-sharp, pointed teeth showed as she drew her lips back in exertion; her sheer decisive will to crush the fruits of her own doing for the sake of the world order she'd implemented and sacrificed _everything_ for was undiminished, even if her life-force had been slightly bumped during her last days of captivity. Ernmas was putting a great deal of effort into obliterating the fools that were about to give Morrigan the means to change history by letting her deceive them so easily. If Morrigan got hold of Henry, she'd kill him and take his gift of being a Traveler between worlds from him. Using that gift, she'd access the book and rewrite her own life.

The sorcerer's wife didn't as yet see the big picture, although she was trying. The mere fact that she was here was tremendously hampering things and infuriating both Morrigan and Ernmas, each for different reasons, but they both would have liked to see her dead.

Henry was almost all the way into the portal when Belle swiftly positioned herself beside Regina. She was exhausted, and she wasn't sure what she was still capable of, but she tried to wrap her mind around what parts of the Evil Queen's doing she would have to copy and attempt to exponentiate for both of them, as much as she was repulsed by Regina's proximity. She took a firm stand and raised her hands, willing them to obey and do her bidding consciously.

Regina became aware of her unexpected assistance, and, even if she was finding it hard to believe, it made her feel like she was receiving a breathing-aid. She was actually being recharged by something _Rumple's plaything_ was doing – and she was loathing it even as the new energy she was getting was flooding her senses. She told herself that they would need just a few seconds head start, judging by the way Henry's shape was fading and fringing as he delved deeper and deeper into the book.

XXXxxxXXX

The ragged girl who thought of herself as Raven stood up on the battlements and was quite pleased that she'd managed to get the sorcerer's undivided attention. She watched his face empty of all expression as he observed the first stray jackdaws that hardly made a sound in passing low, just before _thousands_ of crows and rooks, as well huge black ravens started darkening the gloomy sky with their presence. They were launching themselves straight at the soldiers on the fields at the edge of the forest, and neither Raven nor Rumple doubted that they would do as she'd asked of them and not leave until it was finished.

All hell broke loose when the enormous murder of blackness descended on King George's army, and mayhem took its course as the birds tore their way through the ranks. The soldiers' anguished and frightened cries of pain and death were muted by an onset of more heavy snow, so that the archers on the embrasures of the outer ward couldn't clearly see what was happening on the meadow, but Rumple was quite sure he wasn't ever going to underestimate Rowe again.

XXXxxxXXX

The portal was open, and Henry could feel himself slipping. He was barely holding on to this dimension, one foot in, one foot out, and feeling the overwhelming pull of the Enchanted World, layering their reality. A part of him was on the battlements. It was snowing there solidly, and he could feel the wet, heavy snowflakes on his skin. He could see Rumpelstiltskin and David looking anxiously down across the fields. They were standing with their backs to him and did not notice that he was there. The girl did, and she was smiling at him, as though she was glad that he'd made it. The others would have to hurry, because he didn't feel that he was controlling this very well and might not manage a return trip.

Belle knew they would have to be touching Henry to be able to return to the Enchanted World with him, just as she had come to Storybrooke on his taillight earlier. He was clutching the book and barely visible now. Getting in sync with Regina, she made one last joint attempt at taking out Ernmas long enough to get out of there. Together, they managed to deflect one of Ernmas' own charges of ball-lightning and encase her inside it, numbing her for what they hoped would just be long enough.

Their hasty retreat from the momentarily stunned fairy-queen served as a cue for Bae and Emma, who stretched out their hands to their son at the same moment Regina and Belle did. Geppetto had taken Pinocchio up on one arm and touched Henry's shoulder with his free hand, kicking at one of the snakes that were still upon him at Ernmas call.

Hook, who was still fending off Red's wolf – without the use of magic up to now – tried to follow the old man's example. When he was sure that no one was looking directly at him, he flicked his fingers at the wolf, throwing her brutally back towards Ernmas, who was beginning to stir.

In an instant, there were particles of color coming to life in the crawling, gloomy and smoke-filled heart of the tomb, creating vivid images of light and motion as they crossed the barriers of time one by one with the boy, leaving only Red behind to face Ernmas. The Blue Fairy was beyond furious.

...

**The next chapter might be a bit of a surprise. We'll be going back in time just a little, and the "old friend" Rumple was summoning will put in an appearance I had a great time writing but really couldn't accomodate for here anymore...**


	18. Chapter 18

18.

Once inside the intermediate space between the two worlds, Emma and Bae lost their grip on Henry. Bae wasn't worried, though. They were on their way, and he was pretty sure they were all heading back to the Enchanted Forest. This decision hadn't been one he would have made under any other circumstances. He had been devastated at having been abandoned by his father when he'd used the magic bean to leave the Enchanted World all those years ago, but he'd never regretted leaving it. Rumpelstiltskin had been afraid to take a leap of faith for his only son, and Bae had grown up without him because of that, but he had never been scared of anything much again afterwards, and he'd spent his entire life in leaps and bounds. Not for a second had he ever wished to return to the place that had made more of a lost boy of him than Neverland ever could have.

All the same, he had been hoping to spare his own son that kind of life, because it had turned out to be a life not unlike his father's: a lonely one. When he'd found out about Henry, he'd vowed that the boy would never leave the World Without Magic – only to almost lose him to Pan. Fine job I've done so far, Bae thought. He didn't want his son to live the curse that magic was in and of itself. It was nothing but a burden, and he knew for a fact that things were so much better without it.

Henry didn't belong anywhere they didn't have penicillin and schools, central heating and indoor plumbing, and neither did Emma. She might have been born in the Enchanted World, but she wasn't made for the kind of life that awaited them there. Seeing them both off in that yellow VW before the purple cloud had engulfed Storybrooke had been the hardest, but at same time one of the most _decent_ things he'd ever done in his life. Henry was to get his best chance in New York, and Emma would have seen to that, if magic hadn't followed them there.

Bae could feel a lot of things well up in him right now. He only stopped his rumination when he felt Emma's hand slipping out of his own. He quickly reached for her with his other hand and arduously pulled her closer to himself, hugging her to his chest as they were falling though white light and static. Sensing her churning perturbation, he could well adjust his priorities: human lives and relationships came before revenge and anger. His father had chosen otherwise when he'd let go of him at the edge of the earth-hurricane that had swallowed him as a boy, but Bae was sure that he would never repeat that mistake with Henry or Emma. He would do everything within his power to see to it that they were safe and taken care of.

Emma only accepted the intimate closeness of Bae's embrace because she was really scared, for the first time since she could remember. She had been all day, truth be told, because she'd never been in the situation of fearing for Henry like this before. She didn't have a clue what was really happening to them or where they were going. As far as she knew, up to now, the worst moments of her life had been when Henry had his appendix out at five; not a big, dramatic thing at all, but she'd spent the thirty minutes he'd been in surgery worrying outside in the hallway, thinking of everything that could go wrong, despite having told herself not to be silly when she'd signed the release form. _Of course_ he'd been alright, but she'd been alone with her dark thoughts, just as she was today.

Neal, or whatever he called himself now, didn't know Henry. He didn't have a clue what having a child meant. She didn't think he had the slightest idea what she was going through at all. Repeating Henry's name to herself softly over and over again, she prayed that this was just a nightmare, much like the ones she often had as a child. If it was, she'd open her eyes and see her son safe at home when it was over.

XXXxxxXXX

Belle quickly realized that she had emerged outside of the castle grounds and crouched down. She couldn't fathom why, but she was alone in the winter-bare thicket on the edge of the forest not far from the meadow, almost right on the campsite of King George's army. It was snowing so heavily, she could hardly see her hands in front of her face, but she was sure that she needed to make herself indiscernible. Raising the hood of her cloak hastily, she blended smoothly into the background.

Strangely, she found the campsite to be deserted. She could tell that it had been abandoned in a great hurry, because nothing had been packed up and taken from it. Pots and pans lay scattered around dead fire pits, slowly vanishing beneath a white frosting that seemed to be claiming everything. Heavy breast-plates and shields, as well as diverse weaponry had been carelessly discarded, and even pieces of clothing had been left by the sagging tents. Belle decided to leave this place as fast as she could and began moving towards the open field, from where she could hear nothing of the raging battle she had been expecting. How long had she been gone? Mere minutes, and yet there wasn't a sound, apart from what may have been the cawing of ravens. She assumed that even the noise of the ongoing combat would not carry very far in this blizzard. She needed to find out what had happened in her absence and try to make her way back to the castle.

Belle wasn't prepared for what she came across some way into the field: death had, yet again, taken on a different guise than she had ever seen it do before last night. She had never been on a battlefield during the actual fighting, because her nobility had spared her that cruel reality. She'd been a princess with well-situated suitors, ladies-in-waiting and dancing lessons. And, even if she _had_ ended up cleaning Dark Castle at some point, she certainly hadn't been one of the unfortunate women who would have had to comb the killing fields for the body of a husband, a brother or a son right afterwards either. Therefore, it was difficult to put her first observation into context with anything she knew.

What she initially _thought_ she saw on the meadow were simply thousands of crows; a restless, shifting sea of black.

Then, all at once, the stooping shape of this particular Death lifted its mask and showed her its horrible visage: These crows were, in fact, _feeding_ on what remained of the people she had bought newspapers and groceries from, had fix leaky faucets in her bathroom above the library, made light conversation with on their reading habits, and had seen playing with their children in the park.

It was as if the battle had taken place days rather than minutes before, and her second observation was all too obvious as she surveyed the sheer carnage: a hand… a foot… a face… some she could still recognize, but others were beyond that.

She had known the sons of the Storybrooke town drunk, Paul and Andy Brown. They had been on the road crew, filling pot-holes and repairing crash barriers, and had come by Granny's most nights to order their burgers and fries, tipping their caps at her when she passed them on the street. Now she recognized Andy only from the unusual signet ring he had always worn on his left hand, even while doing surfacing-work. In the Enchanted World, Lord Andrew had been the older son of a nobleman and heir to a large estate on King George's land. His younger brother, Paul, now lay half underneath his dead body, as though the older one had been trying to protect him from relentless pecking and tearing.

Trent Gorman had run the local Optometry Shop just down the road from the library, and he'd been forever polishing the spectacles Belle now saw lying broken in the crimson slush at her feet. One lens had been shattered, and the other was still wet with blood.

Harry, baker Beaufort's Great Dane was trotting over the field, looking for its master, and whining out every now and then, lost and confused.

Sam Whitmore, school bus driver and cousin to the Brown brothers, appeared to have tried to hide from his fate by crawling underneath the battering ram that had, in the end, crushed him beneath it.

The Lady of Dark Castle strode aside the blood-drenched pasture steadily and silently in numbing fear and revulsion, cautiously covering as much ground as she could for as long as she could stand to do so. She was afraid of drawing the birds' attention, though she was sure that she was invisible to them, but when she could take no more, she broke into a sprint and heedlessly made for the grey walls of her home. Her cloak billowed out around her, gathering the thick wet snowflakes that were beginning to cover even the black wings of the ravens that were letting her pass them by, paying her no heed.

XXXxxxXXX

Regina awoke to the unpleasantness of lying in a puddle of icy slush. Her throbbing head was killing her. She groaned and very slowly and very carefully propped herself up on her elbows to survey her surroundings. Not at the castle, she quickly established. _So_ not at the castle.

She was somewhere in the woods, and she was wet, freezing and very much annoyed at the fact that the old bastard must have finally managed to install a ward she couldn't get past even in using a portal. She'd been wondering how he was holding up: now she knew. Well, they would just have to see about that, she thought as she picked herself up off the soggy duff and wiped her muddy hands on the legs of her black suit pants. He had never been able to keep _her_ out of that castle, and she wasn't going to stand for it now. She wiped her nose on the back of her dirty hand agitatedly and made an attempt at getting her bearings in between the black, bare tree trunks. Unfortunately, nothing struck her as being familiar; she had never been a "woods-person" and had always had servants to navigate direction for her. Deeply regretting the fact that she had left her coat behind in the mausoleum, she started walking. That in itself evoked another regret, deeper still: the pumps she'd opted for when she'd gotten dressed in New York the previous day.

"And where do you think you're hobbling off to, love?" the creature posing as Hook inquired of her back as he stepped out from behind a huge ancient oak tree, stopping her in her tracks.

XXXxxxXXX

Henry was the first to come through the portal at the castle. He was breathing in the cold morning air, taking shape and becoming aware of himself on the parapet in the middle of the ongoing snowstorm. There were no more layering images in his head, and he saw the building and the men at arms on the structure clearly. He was holding the book pressed firmly to his chest as the others slowly began to fade in beside him.

"Gramps?" he asked to Charming's and Rumple's backs. "Mr. Gold?"

Both men spun around at the sound of his voice, and Henry was relieved that they had heard him. He was really there, and he was sure that this was where he was meant to be.

David gaped incredulously and took one step towards the boy, hesitating at first, but when Henry gave him that crooked smile he and Snow had been missing so sorely in these past weeks, he reached out and pulled Henry into a loving embrace, laughing unabashedly at the top of his lungs with the pure joy of having him back. He couldn't wait for Snow to see him.

Rumple observed that Emma, Bae and Geppetto were solidifying around them, Pinocchio on his father's arm. Relief flooded him as he spied Bae, and he hastily flung his arms around his son, embracing him for a moment before the young man broke away and directed his attentions toward Henry and Emma. It was then that Rumple noted that neither Regina nor Hook were anywhere to be seen. He worriedly scanned the guards' walkway and the broad landings above the gate for Belle, but, to his despair, she was not there either. He had to assume that she hadn't made it through.

It struck him that this could only have come about if something terrible had happened to her, and though he was at this moment genuinely happy to see his son and grandson, he could feel his chest close up painfully before releasing the very warmth of his beating heart in a cold flush. He turned back to the embrasure and leaned heavily and rigidly on the crenellation, trying to steady himself. The empty, freezing silence spreading to his soul was numbing. The flesh of his burnt hand was raw to the bone and it began to break open and bleed as he clenched a fist, needing to feel _something, _so that he could summon and set free the powerful dangerous nature within.

His panicked reasoning told him that he had to start looking for ways to turn back time to the point when he'd lost her. He knew that there was a way to do that, and he had to hold his breath to keep the inner rage that was building from spilling over and bringing down the walls of this castle around them. He had to get away from here, so that he wouldn't hurt anyone, and his mind was calling out again to Anam Dorcha. Although he could already feel his old friend approaching, it wasn't happening anywhere near fast enough. His eyes, reflecting the darkness growing inside of him, had turned almost black.

Just then, something on the field below caught his attention. There was movement on the meadow, a short distance from where the crows were feasting. It was still some way off from the castle, but fairly near the cart road that led up to the gate. Rumple was not the only one who noticed the disturbance in a dense flurry of snow close to the ground. It was hard to make out exactly what that disruption might be, but soon he was fairly sure that there was something or someone alive down there and running towards the castle. There was a solid form beneath some shrouding enchantment, and it was gathering a covering of snowflakes. Raven, standing on the battlements, was pointing, drawing his attention to the apparition below. She didn't seem to be in any way disquieted by it, though, which he took to mean that it didn't pose a threat. He leaned forward and concentrated, trying to determine exactly what he was looking at. Halfway between the field and the castle grounds, the wind whipped at the cloaked figure until the hood fell back and revealed his wife.

He gasped and felt a wave of gratitude wash over him. "Hold your fire," he sharply ordered the archers on the wall walk as he swept past them on his way to the gatehouse. The order was promptly passed on, and he was half running, half sliding down the narrow side-stairs of the barbican to the wall's main entrance before Bae or the others had realized what was going on.

He cast a menacing glance at the unsuspecting soldiers manning the gate and barked, "Open it! Now!"

It never crossed the bewildered guards' minds to refuse the Dark One, and they did as they were told instantaneously and without further inquiry. It took two of them to laboriously work the mechanics of the double-gridded iron portcullis efficiently, and to Rumple, it was an eternity before they had raised it. He grew impatient and began cursing them ferociously as they agitatedly began to unbolt the main wooden safeguard. They finally managed to open one heavy wing of it to allow for the sorcerer to slip outside, hesitating to reclose it behind him.

Rumple darted out onto the cart road that was now almost completely lost under a white blanketing of snow, frantically searching for Belle, though he stopped abruptly a few paces from where she stood when he found her. He stood gazing at her for a moment, because he hadn't really expected to lay eyes on her again. Her face was pale, and melted snowflakes dripped from her nose and chin. Her wet hair was pasted to her head, and she was shivering, although he knew that she could not be cold in the cloak that had served him well for a long time. It had been fashioned to lend its wearer the properties of the creature whose slough it was made from; it had concealed her and warmed her, but it could not numb a compassionate heart.

"Are they here?" she asked, anxiously and winded. "Are they alright?"

He nodded, kneading his fingers and lost for all the words he'd had a mind to say. Finally, he awkwardly closed the distance between them. His mouth gave her the smallest of smiles, while his eyebrows furled as he ran his hands delicately over her shoulders and down the length of her arms until they had reached hers. He searched her eyes intently, questioningly. Her expression told him that she was hurting deeply as her eyes welled up with tears of relief and sorrow in the same instant. He bit down on his lower lip and gingerly pulled her into an embrace. She wrapped her arms around his waist, as he involuntarily stalled time for a moment, in which not even the relentlessly falling snow could touch them. He realized that he was very fortunate indeed to find her still alive and here with him. George was beaten, and his family was safe for the time being, but there would be a lot of pieces for them all to pick up.

A soft murmur of movement from above made Rumple release Belle from his embrace gently. He sensed that Anam Dorcha was soaring right above them, and the creature was beckoning him, a low rumble arising from its chest. The sorcerer had almost forgotten about the geimhreadh-dragon he'd summoned. No longer caring in any way what else was going on around them, he decisively entwined his fingers with Belle's and cautiously coaxed her just a little bit further back into the meadow. She needed rest, which she wasn't going to get at the castle right now, and he needed a time and a place to be with her. Although he had called upon his old friend for help him win a battle he hadn't expected to be over before it had even started, he would now rely on him to gift him time for Belle.

"Rumple?" she protested. As far as she could tell, they were heading straight for the part of the field she'd just fled from and felt no desire to return to. She could not yet see the great beast just above, and she barely heard its angular wings beating above the rush of the wind.

"Please trust me?" he begged. She did, and kept up.

"Papa?" Bae called after him in alarm from the embrasure, as soon as they were out of the blind angle of the wall and within his sight, "What are you doing?"

"Don't worry," Rumple shouted back, stopping briefly to turn full body and squint up at him. "You're alright," he continued reassuringly. He cast a fleeting glance at Raven, who he assumed could possibly observe the grey winterdragon touch down through the dense snowfall, when all the archers and soldiers and family members on the wall couldn't. "We're all going to be fine, Bae. I'll be back, but there's something that I need to do now. Please understand."

The elegant creature with the gleaming sapphire eyes was a master of concealment and had not permitted anyone to perceive its presence as it had circled the castle grounds underneath the heavy dark clouds. Falling snowflakes would seem to pass through it unhindered, unlike they did on the material of the cloak that its own skin had provided the sorcerer with. It only lifted its magical veil to him and the woman that carried his blood at the precise moment it touched the ground beside them a few paces from where they were standing.

Belle was amazed by the splendor and size of the four-horned "_metallic" dragon_ her husband was leading her to. It may have been thirty feet long from slender white snout to thick, horn-spiked tail, its color suited to the nature of this winter land. Its leathery wings were partially covered in long, curved white feathers, and its graceful demeanor reflected serenity and wisdom.

"He's beautiful," she mumbled, more to herself than to Rumple.

"And he knows it," Rumple smiled mischievously, quickly directing her towards the dragon's left flank. He waited there for Anam to bow down far enough for him to give Belle a leg up. She was startled at what he was expecting her to do, but she trusted him blindly with her life, so she let Rumple help her climb clumsily onto the narrow upper back of the magnificent being and hoped that she wasn't hurting the magical creature in doing so. She was surprised to find that the skin on either side of his neck and underneath his wings wasn't anything as coarse as she might have guessed from what she had heard or read about geimhreadh-dragons. It was, in fact, mostly covered in very thick, short fur, and only the scales on its breast and back were tough.

Anam's back was warm and dry to the touch, and Belle found an almost comfortable sitting position between the double rows of tendrils running down it. By lodging her feet firmly just underneath the protective plates on either side of his backbone, she discovered she had a safe purchase on the ophidian.

Rumple pulled himself up and slid in front of her, patting the hide on the base of the dragon's downy neck while talking to him softly in a language Belle didn't understand. The dragon seemed to respond by making a soothing thrumming sound after the sorcerer had fallen silent. She slid her arms around her husband's waist as Anam made a running start and took them smoothly and swiftly into the sky, soaring ever upwards into the whiteout that soon mercifully swallowed the castle and the meadow from their sight.

Rumple knew that by the time they returned, the winter blizzard would have buried every last trace of what had taken place beneath a layer of glistening white. When the storm was over, Charming's men would have to spend some sickening days gathering up the remains of the dead to lay to rest in a pit as deep as they could dig it, but he would certainly spare Belle that sight. He and she were invisible to the world right now, and it was just fine by him that the world was invisible to them, also.

The dragon was giving off a small share of his fueling energy to keep them warm and dry on his back, cocooning them in his aura, as they coursed through the relentless storm. Belle would never have guessed that a winterdragon had magic beyond its being, but Anam did. He released a breath of fire before taking them to a greater height, as though he could burn a hole into the swirling cloudscapes and the wind itself.

Rumple could feel Belle's unnatural warmth as she braced herself against his back, the intensity of it seeping liquidly through him. He wasn't repelled by its capacity, which he considered to be fundamental and sheer, but he was momentarily at a loss for solace. It was Anam's melody of low contented tones that finally lent comfort to Belle's unsettled spirit and subtly bestowed some stillness to her troubled heart. It gently lured sleep to find and reconcile her with a song that only she could hear, not even knowing that she was.

Rumple was torn from his own thoughts when he realized that her arms were slipping from his sides as she slowly started to cool down to her normal human temperature. She was somewhere between awake and asleep, and too weary to keep herself upright anymore. He nimbly changed places with her and wrapped himself around her, keeping her safe, as she surrendered herself to slumber in his secure embrace.

Anam snorted softly, keeping his opinions to himself when Rumple patted his back again after a while, telling his old friend that he was really glad to see him. They would have to agree to disagree on the sorcerer's intentions for summoning him and on the benefits of the place he wanted them to go.

Rumple didn't feel like explaining himself to the dragon today, even if he was doing him a great service. He was sure that he was finally capable of dealing with his own ghosts now, but he was grateful for the dragon's unquestioning, uncompromising companionship, and his mind went back to their first encounter while Belle slept.

XXXxxxXXX

"Rumpelstiltskin! Rumpelstiltskin! Rumpelstiltskin! I summon thee," the king's teenage son called out to the trees. He had been told that he would have to say the imp's name out loud three times.

The youth's discourteous tone bothered the Dark One, who had been in the middle of his ritualized punctual-to-the-minute weekly collecting of rents and back payments from the tenants on his property. Being summoned made the back of his neck tingle, and he always had such a hard time resisting a bid. More often than not, the bargain being offered wasn't worth his while in any way, but you could never know when one finally would be. He cut short what he was doing, menacingly pointing out the fact that he would soon return, and decided to heed this call.

Prince George was as blue-blooded as the stable-boy that had fathered him, and his upbringing in the lap of luxury by the unsuspecting monarch married to his philandering mother had not been beneficial to his mannerism. Rumpelstiltskin had been watching this boy as he had been watching the powerful people of this land for centuries now. He'd yet again had to resign himself to the fact that there was no way he was going to find the essential spark in this boy that he'd been hoping for; that one flicker of humanity and decency that would set in motion the chain of events it would take for him to find his own boy.

Rumpelstiltskin appeared to the prince seemingly out of nowhere. "Your highness," he sneered, exaggerating his bow.

The prince seemed to regret his decision to summon the Dark One the moment he found himself confronted with the monster he had called upon; sickly grey skin with dustings of gold, claw-tipped fingers, black eyes that could probably penetrate your soul and steal its very essence, and fine clothing that befitted a king, not the mercenary of fates. He swallowed, almost losing his nerve: a feeling he wasn't used to having.

"Well?" Rumpelstiltskin snapped. "Time waits for no man, chop-chop!"

George was taken aback, but he dared not let on. "I… I was told that you might be willing to grant a wish," he began nervously, drying his sweaty hands on his satin pants.

"I'm not your Fairy Godmother, dearie," Rumple stated sharply. He was amused by the boy all the same, so he settled down on a fairly smooth and clean-cut tree stump, crossing his legs, waiting for the young prince to state his case. This was going to be entertaining at the very least.

"I… um… I…" George stammered, wishing the earth would open up swallow him.

Rumple took his time to elegantly rise from the stump and stalked harassingly around the flustered royal. "Um, um, what, young prince? Lost yar tongue, have ya? I haven't got all day you know." He took pleasure in watching the young man flush and fidget.

When George could still not find his composure and voice his request, Rumple stopped right behind him, way too close for comfort, and mockingly exclaimed, "Ooooh dear, oh dearie-dearie-dear! The king-to-be has no idea what he's set upon himself, does he?" The prince's face turned from dark red to pale, but didn't run nor retaliate, lest he be cursed or killed on the spot by this creature.

Moving around the prince to get back into full view, the Dark One folded his hands behind his back and took a broad stance. "Listen up, noble heir to your mother's line, this is how it works: you called for me, I'm here. You tell me your heart's desire, and I decide whether or not I'm willing to help you get it. In the event that I do, you offer me an absurd sum of gold, and I tell you that I've no need for gold. I name the price of my magic, and you say no, stomping off into the forest. I say, think about it, and you come back to me. We make a deal, and we both keep our end of it. Questions?"

The prince shook his head.

"And…?" Rumple inquired, mimicking a rolling wave motion with his hand, when met with silence yet again. "What _is_ your heart's desire, boy?"

The price finally recaptured his courage and announced, "To defeat a dragon."

As if he hadn't heard that before from the generations that had preceded the lad, Rumple raised an eyebrow. He could see the pimple-plagued adolescent picture himself wielding a sword over the dying beast at his mercy, impressing his Royal Majesty, who would, of course, claim that his only son was destined for greatness. Well, if that was all, then he'd be happy to comply.

"You'll get your chance at a good battle with a really big and dangerous dragon, if that's what you want," he stated. "But what's in it for me?"

The prince was about to say what he'd had in mind before coming here, but then thought better of it. He'd been paying attention and caught on that he was being tested. "Anything," he declared solemnly. "Name your price."

"I will", Rumple laughed, slapping the prince's shoulder. "Later. And you'll pay up. Now, about you defeating that fierce dragon…"

"You'd have to make sure it doesn't harm me, though," the prince interrupted him.

"Yes, yes, deal's a deal, my boy, you'll get your victory," Rumple waved off impatiently, walking away from the heir to the crown and repeated to himself that there had not been one word about actually _slaying_ the beast, before turning to find that the prince had hesitantly followed him, keeping his distance. "Hmm… what was I saying...?"

"You were going to tell me how to find and fight that dragon?" he suggested meekly, still worried that he might be turned into something slimy.

Rumple grinned. Of course he was. Although, he'd have to speak to the dragon in question first. He wasn't sure if she'd hatched her egg yet, but he was hoping so, in light of the fact that she could get a little touchy every ten to fifteen years when she was expecting offspring. A year on the rocks, literally, might rattle even the most stable disposition. He honestly didn't know how females did what they did. Nonetheless, she might not be put off the exclusive golden nesting material he had on offer for the service she would be doing him.

Had he even had the slightest inkling that things would get out of hand and that he would have to retrieve the new-born baby dragon from its mother's nest a few days later because the young prince would decide to exchange the enchanted sword he had specifically given to him for the "slaying" of his fierce dragon for another ordinary blade, he would have refused the deal. But he just didn't see it coming.

He'd had to go to a lot of trouble rescuing the winterdragon-baby from the chilly, vertiginous heights of Ice Mountain in the far north to save it from starvation and named it Anam Dorcha – the Dark Soul – going by its demeanor when he had first laid eyes on it. It had been hard to capture and had repeatedly tried to incinerate him, but he didn't have the heart to let it die up there alone, and winterdragons were a rare gift of the universe. It had taken him days to coax it from its lair, and weeks to find another breeding dragon-mother that would accept it into hers.

He hadn't counted on seeing Anam again after that, but by the following spring, he'd been fascinated to see that the young dragon had taken to paying the kingdom frequent visits. Deciding to place it under his protection had been a partial pay-back of the life-debt he owed to it, thus creating a whole new public nuisance. That had proved to be very entertaining indeed, and damn, he had enjoyed watching George getting his ass whipped good and proper every time he tried to slay _this_ dragon.

XXXxxxXXX

It had stopped snowing. Anam set down on the edge of a small clearing with not much more than the soft scrunching sound his taloned feet made on the thick blanket of white. Barely visible through the sleeping trees were the remains of a scattered village. This was a remote part of the woods in an isolated part of the kingdom.

The sorcerer slid off the dragon's back and helped his wife down. Patting its muzzle, he bade him to stay close by. Anam gracefully retreated into the thicket and blended in with his surroundings to the point of being invisible to anyone not knowing he was there. His footprints in the snow vanished as though they had never been made.

The cabin Rumple wanted to show Belle stood a little way off from the others and was almost totally immersed in a thick blanketing of snow, derelict and in shambles. It made his heart ache to see it like this. Almost every beam of framework and roof was destroyed, and the only thing that still gave an impression of viability was the wide chimney on the east side. He remembered each and every stone he had carefully inspected before setting it while building this, and he recalled the many winter nights he had spent there at the hearth holding his baby boy. In his mind, he could still see himself soothing the restless and always hungry child in his lap by the fire while Milah slept.

Pieces of the heavy front door lay shattered some way into the ruin of what had once been his home. He'd fashioned the timbre of both frame and door cursing and swearing under his breath, because it had not fitted properly the first three or four times he'd tried to make it work. His efforts had earned him ridicule from passing neighbors, but he'd just always sheepishly laughed along. That door had never opened or closed for him without catching in all the years he had lived there, and he could still hear the hoarse scraping sound it would make as he'd pushed it open.

The windowpanes were long since gone from the remnants of the splintered structures, and there wasn't a single shard left to prove that he'd ever owned such a thing later on, just a year or so before Bae had gone. His boy had been fascinated by the possibility of sitting on the windowsill and watching rain pelt the small sheets of glass in their leading without getting wet.

He and Belle were standing right where his living area had been. Small winter-bare hazel bushes protruded from the snow where the floorboards had gone brittle and rotted away over time. He turned to look back at his old sleeping quarters where nothing remained of the fine headboard he'd spent whole winter weeks carving.

"This is where I Iived with my wife and my boy," he told Belle, still somewhat lost in his memories. "Can you imagine…?"

Belle looked around and tried to picture it. She could, and she had no doubt that it had been beautiful, because it still was, just as it was now – at peace. His love for it was tangible, and she could envision him here, because he had left a part of himself behind within these walls.

Rumple felt a surge of… _something_… and he closed his eyes, allowing it take hold of him, unchecked, and mumbled a spell that began to turn about reality. Objects began to shift, and he smiled as he opened his eyes to watch Belle's face light up in wonder as the cabin began to repair itself. The wood creaked as beams and rafters straightened out and renewed themselves. Window frames became whole again and settled into undamaged walls. The snow that had been piling up inside was gone, and wooden boards folded themselves out of the ground, laying out the floor. Every fragmented piece of furniture around them was picking itself up and returning to the state he had last seen it in as the shingles of the roof slipped into their proper place one by one. It was a very palpable illusion that he took pleasure and pride in showing to Belle. He felt his magic was at its strongest here: This was the place where his son had been born and where he had tried to love at his best in that lifetime, perhaps in any lifetime. The memory called forth powerful emotions – almost as powerful as what he'd felt when he'd seen that Belle had not returned with the others in the morning.

He sat down on the rim of the stone ledge that he'd set around the hearth, where a fire was now crackling merrily, took a deep breath and released it slowly, looking up at Belle. He noted that she wasn't in any way shocked or apprehensive. She gently nudged him to make him move over so that she could sit close to him, wanting to take his hand, but he pulled back, which he had never, _ever_ done before. He was surprised himself that he had, but he needed to get out what was on his mind, and he had to do it by himself.

To Milah, and even to Bae, this place had been a hovel, Rumple recalled, letting his eyes wander around the dimly lit room and smarting just a little at the thought. Just a tiny little bit, not the raging searing pain he might still have felt some years ago when he'd been here. Today, he could accept that nothing he'd had to give had ever been good enough for his wife, and it was a fact he'd not given enough of himself to his boy after he'd had the means to feed him properly, keep him in warm clothes and above all, keep him safe. He'd abandoned Bae long before he'd let him fall through that portal alone without realizing. This was the plain truth of it.

"I couldn't live here anymore after Bae was gone," he finally continued, his gaze resting on a coal drawing that was lying on the worn, polished tabletop. "You see, I built this house for a _family_. A family was all I ever wanted, and I wanted to do right by it, do the best I could. I wanted to make my wife happy so she'd stay with me, and I wanted to watch my son grow up and raise a family of his own. I wanted to grow old here, Belle."

Belle looked at her feet. She didn't think that was too much to ask of life, but she was no fool. It was hardly ever that easy, especially not in this place and time. Yet, she assured him, "It's what most people would want, Rumple."

He half turned to her, making her look up, and fixed his eyes firmly on hers. "I killed my wife, because it was easier for me to do that than live with the fact that she had left me for someone she thought was better than me." This was the first time he'd been able to say it out loud. He'd spent a lifetime regretting it, but there was nothing that would ever change the fact. He held up his scorched hand which he hadn't bothered to heal. "I ripped her heart out with this hand."

Belle closed her eyes, not wanting to hear this. She had known what he'd done, but she did not want to go there right now. Why was he telling her this?

"Look at me, Belle," he demanded softly. "You need to hear this from me, because there's more."

Of course there was, but she was already hurting enough. She wanted to jump up and leave him there, run outside and raise the hood of her cloak to be alone for a while, but he held her back, set on continuing.

"After that, I drove my son away," he persisted. "He was trying to hold on to me, but I let go of him – with this hand!" Again, he showed her his raw hand. "And I watched him fall through a portal and out of my world, because, at that precise moment, it was easier to do that than to go with him and have him realize that I would destroy his chance at happiness no matter where he might take us."

She wound out of his grip, taking a step back, and glared at him, observing the black lines around his deeply haunted dark eyes. She'd seen that look about him before, but never as intensely as now. He was profoundly upsetting her after a whole night of unspeakable things, and doing so with some intent.

"Why are we having this conversation now?"

"Because there is something you need to realize."

"Rumple, I knew about all those things. They happened several lifetimes ago, and I think if I can move beyond that, and I have, then you definitely need to."

He chewed on his lower lip and considered a moment, tempted to leave it at that. He'd already locked out the world, so he could still just wrap his arms around her and stay here by the fire for a while. He could take off his boots and his chain armor right now, lay down on his bed with her and fall asleep for days on end, just ignoring reality, because none of this was real anyway. But then, he'd be repeating history, because he'd already been there and done that.

"I'm not telling you this because I want to frighten you into leaving me. You're everything to me, Belle." He took another step towards her, deciding that he would need to touch her hands now, after all, or he was not going to move beyond anything today.

"You know all this, and you're still here with me. What you gave to me by doing that is what broke my curse and it was only possible, because you showed me that there is no curse, however dark it may be, that can't be broken by true love. Are we both in agreement on that?"

She frowned, shaking her head. "Yes, but what are you getting at?"

He sat down at the hearth again, patting the warming stone tiles beside him. She took him up on that and followed suit. "There's something you need to know about yourself, so you don't ever rush – or happen – into anything unprepared again. I wasn't completely sure until today. Maybe I just didn't _want_ to be, but I am now."

The sorcerer hunched over slightly and pushed back his cloak as he dug a hand into his belt at his lower back. He was sure he had to do this, but he felt the blood go cold around his heart anyway when he brought forth the dagger he'd retrieved from their bedroom after William's men had been defeated when they had tried to take the armory. He'd spent the last three hundred years being afraid that it might be used against him if anyone was to get their hands on it by some unlikely chance, but since he'd seen the new inscription, he'd been _absolutely terrified_ at the thought of it being found _now_, in the however unlikely event that they might lose the castle.

Placing the blade on his thigh with the ornate engraving facing downward, he continued. "This," he explained, touching it lightly, "is _not_ the reason I failed so totally. You may think that it is, because you do have a talent for finding excuses for me..." He saw that she was about to object to him, so he raised his voice a notch to cut her off just as she was about to speak. "You do, and you always did. But if you hadn't, you couldn't have made me want to live up to that. So, you see, you didn't just break my curse with True Love's Kiss. You broke it long before that, really."

Belle pursed her lips and rolled her eyes, which made the dimple that he so loved appear on her cheek. "Get on with it, Rumple," she scolded him lightly, bracing herself for what he was trying to prepare her for in his own way.

"You will keep in mind what you yourself taught me, Belle? Magic is as magic does, dark or white, good or bad – but in itself, magic is just magic, and nothing more. Don't ever doubt that."

When she impertinently chose not to react, he tilted his head insistently, his eyebrows knitting.

"Okay. Of course," she finally gave in. "I know that."

He turned the dagger over in his hand and held it out for her to see.

Belle was not sure what she was supposed to be looking at. She'd never really had a good look at it before, but it was common knowledge what the letters spelled out. Only – they weren't reading Rumpelstiltskin anymore. She gazed down at the blade intently, and then incredulously up at him, before reading the inscription on the dagger back to herself one more time.

It said "Oidhre".

"I don't understand…" she began.

"I didn't, either, before you told me you were pregnant. Technically, you broke my curse with your kiss at the castle a few days ago. It had to be _here_, in this world, because this is where my magic came from, so it could only be undone _in this realm_," he explained.

She had kissed him many times in Storybrooke. A hundred times perhaps alone in their final night at his house, when he had made his vows to her, and he had taken her to his bed for the first time. She had lain in his arms, caressing him and moving against him, tasting him and kissing him in ways he hadn't expected her to. He had felt more human and more alive than he ever had before, but even the intense wonder of making love to the woman that truly loved him had changed nothing. He had remained the Dark One until she had returned to the Enchanted Forest and kissed him again by the fire place in the library. He remembered coming out of the dark and having a vision of her then; a vivid dream of a real and fulfilled human life with her – cherry blossoms on a warm wind in spring, their healthy baby boy in his arms, and her smile as she'd walked across the lush early May meadow towards them.

"But magic is also a double sided sword, and it's never lost to this world," he went on. "The enchantment on this dagger specifies that its magic never just fades away if its curse is outwitted, Belle. It's _always_ passed on to someone."

The color left Belle's face, and he could feel her tense up beside him as she pulled the cloak around her shoulders tightly, even though it was really warm by the fire. She did that as if to shut him out of her space.

"So I broke your curse, and you became human again – but… are you saying I inherited it, then?"

"No!" he quickly corrected her. "No, you didn't. You would have had to kill me, not kiss me to do that. But I do think that you've been charged with it."

She was hearing him, but his words were puzzling her.

He tried again. "The word on the dagger is written in an old language, because the dagger was forged in ancient times, in another land. It means 'heir'. I took that to specifically mean _my_ heir, because it would be logical that it demand my blood. And at first, I thought that it would be Bae."

"Because he is _your_ son, your _heir_."

"Yes, that's what I assumed."

Her face dropped. She would not have wished the Dark Curse on Bae. Yet she didn't wish it any other child either. "It's not Bae, is it?" she asked, although she already knew the answer to that.

He shook his head slowly. "No." He had raked his brain for the reason in all this. "I know that he is definitely my blood, but I think it skipped him because he wasn't in this world when it happened."

Belle slouched over for a moment, closing her hands around her mouth in a praying gesture, and he wasn't sure whether to touch her or not. Finally, he did put his arm around her, and she accepted the token for what it was.

"Can we do anything about it?" she asked, simply.

Again, he shook his head. "I don't know of anything yet."

She moved out of his embrace to face him. "So how do we live with this?"

"We simply do," he answered her. "Magical abilities are usually inclined to remain inactive until they are triggered by a certain key event. I killed for this dagger, Belle, and that murder was _my_ trigger. The dagger grants arcane knowledge, but it doesn't, by itself, _create_ magic. Magic is innate. The dagger is only instrumental. Zoso searched for and found a fool like _me_, because _I_ had dormant magic in me without knowing it, and he knew I'd be desperate enough to kill for that dagger. He needed someone like that to lift his curse because he was so far beyond redemption that he knew he'd never find the only other thing that would release him from his burden. He chose effacement over the infernal darkness he was lingering in."

"What about our child, Rumple? What about what I did?"

He cut her off, licking his upper lip the way he did when he was thinking, "… was by means of your charge and triggered by your fear, sweetheart. That doesn't mean there is anything to be worried about right now. The inscription might even merely be a prophesy, and not an inevitable fact, for all I know."

"And if it's not?"

Rumple shifted about to kneel on the floor in front of her. He took her hands in his own. "Even if it's not, we _will_ cope, because _we_ can."

**OOoooOO**

**Again: thanks a lot to the people who kindly take the time to review.**

**A very special thanks to cynicsquest for taking _a lot of time_ to beta this chapter for me and levitate those pages back within reach...!**

**In the next chapter, which will be considerable shorter, Henry is taking a closer look around the castle and getting to know Raven.**


	19. Chapter 19

19.

Too wound up for sleep, Henry wandered the dark and winding corridors of the castle alone. He was expecting something magical at every corner he turned, but he wasn't afraid. Most of the wall-mounted torches had been extinguished for the night, and a candle he would have to shield from the cool draft with his free hand from time to time lit his way.

Never ever having seen a medieval fortress before, he was fascinated by the quiescence and the air of mystery in present and past he found to dwell here. The prospect of exploring every nook and cranny of this overwhelming place was taking his mind off worrying about Emma and Regina.

Emma was taking it _in_, but Henry thought she was not really taking it _well_. The only two people she thought she remembered here were his dad and him, and she didn't even have that straight. He had the feeling that she hated Neal's guts, and she didn't recall that Henry had grown up in Storybrooke. He wished that Mr. Gold, Rumpelstiltskin, could have stuck around a little longer to help them figure out how to reboot Emma's memory – maybe much in the way that Belle had managed to help him at the mausoleum. He hadn't had a chance to thank her for that yet because he hadn't seen her when the others had emerged from the portal. She hadn't been with them, and neither had Regina. Neal had told him he'd seen Belle later, so at least they knew she was alright. He had reasoned that Belle and Regina must simply have emerged from the portal somewhere else because they had magic, and the castle had wards against it to stop someone or something with bad intent from entering unchecked. It's what was keeping the ogres out, too. But _no one_ had actually seen Regina _anywhere_ yet, and he was worried about her more than he'd ever care to admit to Emma.

The fact that Red hadn't joined them either had escaped his attention totally, because he hadn't expected her to. He hadn't registered that it had been _her_ in her wolf-form there in the mausoleum with them, snarling at Hook, who obviously also hadn't made the trip himself. The look on Granny's face as she'd questioned his dad about her granddaughter had made him uneasy, because the old lady had been so distraught. He'd known her all his life, and he'd seen her fight and make up with Ruby so often that someone who didn't know them might think they had it in for each other, but he knew better. He'd turned his back and swallowed hard when Geppetto had patted her arm while Neal had told her what he knew.

He'd explored most of the wing of the castle that his and Emma's rooms were in, right next to the ones Snow and David had to themselves, but he still wasn't tired enough to expect to be able to fall asleep, so he just decided to keep going.

Unfortunately, there were no suits of armor standing around the halls, like in the historical or fantasy movies he'd seen. He would have to ask where they kept those in the morning, if he didn't succeed in finding any by then. He really wanted to try one on. There were great paintings on the walls, though, and Henry was impressed by the sheer size and momentum of some of them. They were an odd mixture of styles and probably ages, too, depicting combat and hunting-scenes, as well as more playful motifs, such as a frozen village pond with people ice-skating on it. There were ones with rooms within rooms, and some disturbing still-lifes that Henry was sure were by the 15th century German artist, mathematician and creator of the first "magic square", Albrecht Duerer, which totally shocked him. He'd seen similar paintings and likenesses of the man with the intense glare in one of his history books back home. How had Rumpelstiltskin come across those? Did he want to know? _Of course _he did, and he would be sure to ask his grandfather as soon as he was back.

Henry loved the library with its high shelves and endless rows of both new-looking and worn leather-backed volumes in earthy tones. There was a couch with a neatly folded tartan blanket on it right in the middle of the room, a large polished reading-desk facing the only widowed wall, and there were two huge comfortable looking wing chairs on either side of the enormous fireplace. Henry thought that this was one of the most special rooms in the castle and imagined that he would be spending a lot of time here. He was sorry that the hearth was cold, because he would have liked to linger here for a while.

The kitchen was bound to be the warmest place in the building, and, feeling the chill of the night air, he made a beeline for it. He was hoping to find some milk to heat, thinking it very unlikely that he would ever again get to drink another cinnamon cocoa. That was something he would sorely miss. There was quite a list of things he might miss, he thought, as he remembered his first trip to the privy earlier.

Having found the kitchen with no trouble at all, he decided to go straight for the pantry, but he stopped in his tracks when he passed the well-stocked open fireplace and found the strange girl he had seen in the book and on the battlements earlier, sitting there on the warm stone tiles, wrapped up in a wooly blanket and seemingly lost in thought. The flames of the fire cast shadows on her smooth face. She smiled up at him shyly when she realized he was there. He smiled back more easily, finding that he was strangely comfortable around her.

"I was going to try to find some milk," he explained. "Want some, too, if I do?"

Raven didn't reply. He hadn't heard her speak at all yet and wondered if she could. He hesitated for a moment, but then sat down next to her, cross-legged. "You don't talk much, do you?"

She shook her head slowly and turned her gaze back to the fire, as she had been doing before he had arrived.

He remained silent for a while before he plucked up his courage and asked, "Why is that? Can't you speak, or don't you want to?"

She shrugged, not taking her eyes off the dancing flames, but not looking into them anymore either. She was miles away.

He had an idea. "Wait for me here," he told her and got up. There was something he wanted to share with her, since she was somehow part of the reason he'd made it here in the first place. He had turned the pages of that book randomly at the library, but he had, for some reason, gotten stuck on her story entitled "The Seven Ravens". Perhaps it had been because of the intensely colored ink drawings. They had appeared to be captivatingly vivid and had sparked something in him he thought he had never felt before, but now recalled quite well from previous experience. Not having finished the story as such bugged him, though, and he was almost sure that he could find something in it that might be of meaning to her. The stories in his book were never there just for the pleasure of reading them; they were always trying to tell him something.

He had left it in his bedroom, hidden in the space between the bottom of a heavy oak clothes-chest he'd discovered by the window and the floorboards. This was not the best choice of hiding-places, but the best he could do tonight. Another thing he really needed to speak to Mr. Gold about; no one else here except for Neal and Geppetto knew what that book could do yet, but he felt very protective of it, knowing that the creature that had been after him was also after the book.

He fetched it and returned to the kitchen some minutes later, hoping that Raven would still be there. She was, and she was waiting for him with a cup of warm milk. Her own was sitting on the floor in front of her, and she was even spooning some honey she'd found into both cups. He couldn't believe his luck and sat down to enjoy the feast, forgetting about the book for a while as they drank in silence. He'd never thought he'd be so glad for plain old milk and honey, but this was just so good. It warmed him through and through, and he wouldn't have traded it for cinnamon cocoa.

When they had finished, Henry pulled his book onto his lap and began leafing through the pages until he'd found what he was looking for. He showed her the first picture and began reading the tale out loud. She listened intently, fascinatedly, clinging to his every word.

_Once upon a time there was a poor woman who had seven sons and one daughter. She loved her children as much as any mother can, but she had no money to buy food or clothing for them, and they were starving under her very eyes as a particularly cruel and angry winter blew its icy winds across the land. _

_One day, when merciful death had set its sights upon her youngest child, she cried out to the heavens that all of her boys may be taken this day so they would no longer feel hunger or fear, and she would be at peace, knowing them kept by the stars and the moon. _

_Her only daughter sensed the drawing power of the wish that she had sounded over the earth. It frightened the girl's affectionate heart, because she adored her siblings dearly, and she put all of her will into making a new wish, beseeching the above to let her brothers live on under the sun and take her in their stead. _

_A passing sorceress happened upon the desperate girl and overheard her pure heart's petition. She took pity and turned the seven brothers into seven ravens before eternity could claim them, and they flew off into the skies._

_She told the child that she could break her brothers' enchantment within the time it would take for winter to calm its rage on mankind and give way to gentle warming spring. The girl would have to oblige the sorceress one lifetime's great kindness, and her brothers would be human again in shape, provided that she would not speak a single word until the moment of her brothers' deliverance. The girl agreed to do as the sorceress had bid her without complaint._

_Death, however, was not satisfied with the bargain that had been struck, and was not willing to return to its lair empty-handed. At that moment, the child's mother fell lifeless to the ground and was covered by the falling snow._

_The girl followed her raven-brothers to the ends of the forest and beyond, but she did not come across the sorceress again soon. She did not know where to look and could not think of a way to please her. Weary and sick with hunger and sorrow, she laid her body down underneath an ancient tree and waited for death to release her from her bonds. _

Henry stopped here. He knew by her face that this was what had happened to Raven; it was her real-life fairy tale, and he felt pity for her. He could guess what missing someone you loved meant, but he couldn't imagine his entire family being practically wiped out in one day.

She was urging him to continue reading, but he took a moment to consider the ink drawing depicting the beautiful blonde sorceress in rich blue and green robes with an unusual horned headdress. He had seen her somewhere before, and was sure he could find another picture of the slender woman. It might help him place her, and if he couldn't find a name to go with it, he'd know who to ask.

"We've got to find out who this is," he explained. "If we can find out who she is, we can find out what she wants."

Raven was skeptical, but she went along with him. Henry used his right hand to bookmark the page they were on and went about searching for other tales with the extraordinary character. He soon found the one he'd known her from, and hoped that Emma hadn't _really_ killed her the day she had broken the curse and saved him. There was no way for him to tell how much time had passed since Raven's encounter with Maleficent in this world. He very much needed to speak to Rumpelstiltskin or Regina about this.

As he carefully shifted the pile of paper resting on his right hand back towards the front covering of the book, his gaze fell upon another portrait of Raven within an unrelated story. And another one, as he flipped the pages. To his amazement, she was in at least four more besides. She went by different names throughout, but although it was definitely her, nothing he was showing her seemed to ring a bell. Her face was devoid of expression, as if she didn't even recognize herself at all. Perhaps, he thought, she didn't. There wasn't a mirror in this whole castle, as far as he could tell, and he could well assume that she had never in her life seen an image of herself. Henry wondered just how long she may have been journeying through this realm, before he resumed reading out loud as far the story would take them.

He only closed the book quite some time later, when they'd arrived at the place where the girl sat at the kitchen fire with a dark haired boy that would help her find the sorceress who had turned her brothers to ravens. Of course, this wasn't the end. The end had yet to be written.

**OOoooOO**

**The next chapter will, among other things, see us to the place where the Evil Queens go...**

**Thanks again to the people who take the time to review - and the rest of you who just like to read this little fairy tale!**

**As always, special thanks to the very wonderful cynicsquest for thoughts, words and extra chiseling on that square block of sandstone. **


	20. Chapter 20

20.

Belle awoke to find Rumple gazing at her. His face lit up as she smiled sleepily, and he gently coaxed a strand of hair from her brow and tucked it behind her ear. They were still at his cottage, and she was almost sure that he had not permitted himself any sleep to keep them safe and to prevent his illusion from breaking up during the night. How did he do that? There were things about him that she would never understand, but she accepted them all the same, just as she accepted his need to care for and protect her. It made her feel unconditionally secure this morning, and it made the daunting shadows that were lurking right underneath her naturally confident optimism lately retreat to some darker corner of her mind.

She was really hungry and wondered if the tiny make-believe house that was warm and dry might, by some miracle, cater for real food. Much to her delight, she sat up to find that it did – by his. The fire was burning in the hearth, and there was a simple wooden tray with some bread, fruit, cheese and fresh milk at the foot of the small, but comfortable bed. Rumple retrieved it and placed it in front of her. He took some pleasure in watching her tuck in. As she did, she realized that they hadn't even really had time to share a meal in peace since that morning in Storybrooke when everything had gone bad. Not up until now.

She caught herself wishing that this were real, and that they could just stay here for a little while longer. Whatever convoluted paths had brought her to this place, she thought that if she'd been here with Rumpelstiltskin all those years ago, when he'd been a young man, and if she'd had their child here, in this bed and in this house, she would have been happy. Looking around and at him, picturing it, she would not have traded places with a pirate-queen, or even a real one, for that matter. Maybe the Lady of her father's castle that she'd been when he'd taken her away with him might have, but Belle, the woman she was now, would have given anything to have this here and now.

Rumple took a small chunk of the soft white bread from the tray and tore little pieces off, dipping each into his milk before chewing it slowly. He was able to read her thoughts on a very human level about that wish of hers and couldn't help but feel a pang of loss, even though she was right there beside him now.

He was afraid to believe in a happy ending for them and still didn't dare to consider the possibility that his dream would come true in this world, even though he couldn't stop thinking about the wonderful vision he'd had when Belle had broken his curse. He had carried it with him in his heart every minute, like a glowing light in the dark, and he could smell wild honey and cherry-blossom dew when he glanced at her, smiling at him. He remembered holding their new-born child in his arms on a spring meadow… soft baby skin and bundle of fragile love on an acre of heaven, perhaps… it was beautiful, but ever so frightening.

It would be so easy to steal some hours or even a few days more away from the mess they were bound to find once they left this place. So simple to just pretend…

Drawing out the moment of their departure for as long as he could reasonably do so, he stretched out on the bed after they had finished the last of the cheese and the apples, and just savored the goodness of it. Just a few more minutes, he told himself, pulling her close. The tray vanished gradually, and they watched the roof of the cabin slowly fade away bit by bit until they were looking up at the azure-blue sky of late winter morning. It must have been bitter cold outside, but the sun was climbing higher, and the cabin was still cozy and warm.

He leaned in to her and took his time in kissing her tenderly. Her response had him drawing the moment out longer still. If the dragon Anam hadn't put in an undisguised and purposefully noisy prompting appearance at a discrete height above them, he might have given in to her. He might never have stopped himself from holding her and feeling her warmth; the touch of her hands on his skin, her mouth on his, and his hands stroking her tenderly, as she wrapped herself easily around his body.

With one beat of his powerful wings, Anam crossed the sky a little lower this time, breathing fire. Reluctantly taking his friend's nudge, which felt more like a kick in the ribs, Rumple gently pulled back from Belle and directed her attention towards the dragon's shape above them in the brilliant sky, an apology in his eyes and the creases around the corners of his mouth.

Watching The Dark Soul soar overhead, Belle felt her heart sink. No matter how beautiful a sight the mighty creature was, it was he that would be taking them away from the here and now she was so in need of, and back to the castle, back to the field of death outside it, and back to the people she would have to face after all that had happened and all that she'd _made happen_.

She kissed Rumple one last time, _almost_ chastely; her lips lingered on his mouth just a fraction of a second too long before she reluctantly disentangled herself from him and got up. She enveloped her all too slender frame in one of the coarse woolen blankets from the bed and went to find a wash basin to melt snow in, while Rumple secretly cursed at the dragon waiting for them on the clearing. She observed him picking up their clothes off the floor, and seemingly consider what to do about them. By the time she returned with some soap and the water she'd warmed over the fire, they had been disposed of, and there were fresh ones for them both. Again, she wondered at how he did it, knowing full well that this kind of magic – making _something_ out of _nothing_ – would be costing him. The price he'd have to pay wasn't clear to her, but again, Belle accepted what he was doing without a word.

Grateful for the change, she quickly washed down, toweled herself off, and slipped into snugly-fitting underwear, lightly, fleetingly pressing a palm to her lower abdomen. She wasn't even showing yet, but she had both witnessed and undergone fundamental changes, inside of her and out. This baby had changed _everything_, just as _everything_ had changed in the weeks that it had been growing inside her. Continuing to dress in the soft warm garments and the new leather boots her husband had conjured, she watched him take his turn with a second basinful of warm water and a washcloth. She knew that he missed his shower in Storybrooke just as dearly as she did. With a baby on the way, they would soon be missing even more of the basic amenities of the twenty-first century entirely, she could imagine.

Belle found a brush and tackled her hair while he quickly dressed. He'd obviously decided not to bother with the stubble on his face. She didn't mind one bit, since it was already getting softer and suited him. He seemed miles away and was pressing his tongue against his upper lip, like he always did whenever he was turning things over in his mind. A penny for his thoughts…

When she was through with her hair, he was already beside her, shaking out her cloak in one flowing motion and wrapping it around her shoulders. "You shouldn't go anywhere without this again," he advised, as he fastened the golden dragon-shaped clasp at the nape before pulling her into a caring embrace. "When we're back, I mean."

She nodded, closing her eyes in a frown, as she leaned her head on his shoulder. "What _am_ I going to tell them, Rumple?" she mumbled softly.

"Nothing," he implored her. "_Please_ don't tell them anything, sweetheart. We need to keep this to ourselves." She could feel his anxiousness at the mere thought.

Rumple could well imagine what would happen if anyone discovered the truth. Generally, it wouldn't be hard for most people to believe that Belle had magic because they could well assume he'd taught her. After all, he had been the ruin of this beautiful woman anyway, as far as most of them were concerned. However, it would be almost impossible to keep her, and later on their baby, safe from just these people under the given circumstances if it were to become known that his curse had been passed on to their child. The consequences that would ensue were unthinkable.

He had a dislike for lying to people outright because he'd been lied to himself all the years of his very long life, but they might have no choice, even around his family and Belle's friends in this case. He didn't see any other way to protect her, because things so very easily slipped and got out of hand in the wink of an eye. The truth _always_ wanted out, but he needed to buy them time – and lots of it.

David knew about the decline of his magical abilities. He'd told the prince himself out of necessity. He thought that Robin and perhaps a number of other people at the castle had caught on for themselves by now, going by what they might have seen him do or _not do_. Yet even neither of the two men that had been closest to him had thought to ask any of the _really_ important questions a given realization like that might have prompted. They simply knew nothing of how magic worked, and it made them oblivious to the corollaries that would have been most obvious to someone that did. There was only one other person the sorcerer could think of who might make a connection and see the big picture that involved Belle and their unborn child: Regina.

Going on what Belle had told him, the Evil Queen had very probably made it through the portal, just as Belle had, only to emerge somewhere outside the castle walls. His protective spells would have kept Regina well away from his home if she'd been unprepared, that black beating heart of hers ensuring him some distance between them for the time being. She was bound to turn up on his doorstep at some point, though. She always did.

God help them if she were to find out.

Having made a trip to her palace some time before he'd even known the others were back, he couldn't hide the brief flicker of a wry smile that crossed his face when he thought of what would be awaiting her, should she decide to retreat there to lick her wounds and gather herself. She'd been literally left out in the cold, and while Regina didn't take well to being cut out, she'd be even less happy about the sight that would meet her eyes when she came through the broken gate on that overgrown hillside. None of it had been his doing, but she would be furious and looking for someone to take it out on, and he didn't want her anywhere near Belle on a good day, never mind on one that was less so. He had to keep her away from Belle. Period.

"Ready?" he asked her.

Not really, she thought, but nodded and entwined her fingers with his, taking a deep breath. He was there with her, and whatever happened, they would be alright as long as they were together. That was the only path of the many to choose from he was interested in, he'd told her the night before he had died in Storybrooke. Yet even _death_ hadn't kept them apart, so she was sure that they could face _life_ in this place and make it worth living, no matter what.

The fire in the hearth died, and the furnishings of the small cottage were vanishing one by one as Rumple opened the creaking door. Walls and floorboards slowly faded out and disappeared or went back to their old state of decay as they stepped out into the snow-covered clearing. He tried not to look back, but painfully noted that Belle was. Dead was dead, and there was no returning this place to its former self by any other means than conjuring an illusion about it. At least not by him. His mind was made up, though: he would rebuild it for them when the worst of this madness was over.

The ghosts of his past had become silent in his head and were very slowly retreating from sight, finally just as ready to leave him as he was to let them go, more with each moment of his growing acceptance of himself and his love for his human life and for his new family. There would never again be anything as important to him, but he felt that they would need a refuge to keep his mind focused on that from time to time. One that had his history to remind him of the man he could be. He decided that this cottage had enough of that, and it had proved to be a really good place for them to be after what had happened. Anam may not have understood or approved, always sensing his friend's inner turmoil, but Rumple knew he'd been right to bring Belle here. Not telling her, the way he had always been "_NOT telling!_" her or anyone else the things he couldn't or wouldn't deal with might have destroyed everything in the long run. Coming here had given them their best chance, and he would do everything he could to make sure they would always get their best chance. He was strong enough to now. In her presence, his heart knew no shame, and she never made him choose one thing over the other – she made him _want_ to choose the better version of himself always.

XXXxxxXXX

There was a profound silence in the halls of the palace King Leopold had built for his wife Ava. The tall windows of the narrow, spiked symmetrical turrets on either side of the black glass structure above the keep were broken, and pigeons nested within the sharp, pointed metal frameworks and supports. Plaster statues of pouting angels and wide-eyed demons had broken off the moulding above the main entrance and lay shattered on the walk and on the steps that led up to the wide stoop.

The gothic arches running through the high corridors and into the many living-quarters were showing cracks, and the once exquisitely-colored tiles on the floors had faded, loosened and gone to pieces in the cold and damp. Ceiling-stuccos were disintegrating, and rats scurried through hallways and squeezed into the crevices of the crumbling walls. Secret passageways had been discovered by looters and their entrances lay open to wind and weather. Mold and mildew covered what furniture had not been taken or smashed.

The curse had never touched this castle, but the forest and the elements were reclaiming its terraces and balconies, its gardens and its stables. Soon, they would repossess the decaying building itself, and in a few years, there would be but a pile of rubble and twisted steel to remind that it had ever been there.

A raven coursed swiftly through the wide open gallery on the first floor and into the gaping hole that remained where delicately-fashioned French doors had shattered and broken, come unhinged and crashed to the floor. It made its way into the grand ballroom, where elegant dancers had once swept gracefully across the parquet to lively music in twos and fours, dressed in their best evening gowns and leather-soled slippers. Nothing of that memory had endured here in the dark, amid the heaps of glinting shards from fragmented mirrors and chandeliers that had been hurtled to the ground by the howling winds relentlessly punishing the structure inside and out. The huge bird made its way up through the expansive curved stairwell with its linings of splintered, worm-infested bannisters and into the bleak and empty sitting room adjacent to the master bedroom. It circled once and finally came to perch on the back of a broken chair in the room beyond, quietly observing the pale figure of a woman that lay still and cold on the bare rotting mattress of her four-poster bed, imprisoned inside herself and trapped in deeply unsettling dreams as she slept.

The Evil Queen's skin was white as the snow that had been carried in through the broken stained-glass panes by the icy winter blizzard and had blanketed the dank red floor-carpeting of what had been her bedroom in another lifetime. There was nothing in the blank expression on her face to show that she had fought the curse that had been cast upon her, but she had. She had tried to resist it even as she had seen her own dark, gleaming eyes peer back at her from the face Morrigan was taking on as her own, having discarded Hook's physiognomy, as Jones, in turn, had slowly come to his senses on the filthy, littered bar counter at the Rabbit Hole.

Regina had been lost to the Enchanted World at the exact moment Morrigan had taken on her appearance, and she'd stayed suspended in the Netherworld even while Ernmas' fairy daughter had tested her wings and surveyed Rumpelstiltskin's castle from above. Morrigan decided that giving the Evil Queen a taste of sulfur might just bring about a more cooperative undertone to their working-relationship, and she had relished the thought of wiping that smug, painted smile off her face in the process.

She'd been sorely tempted to do away with the queen in the woods when they had arrived, but she'd managed to curb her temper. Millennia of experience had proved her tendency for rash actions to be her biggest flaw, and she knew it. Killing Regina for being uncooperative and delaying her schedule might have been extremely satisfying, but she'd had the feeling there was something she'd be missing if she gave in to the impulse all too soon.

As it had turned out, she'd been right. It would have been a mistake. Having been to the castle had confirmed that there was no way for her to get inside unless the wards faltered or someone opened a loophole big enough to slip inside, and she had to concede that she needed the Evil Queen. Contrary to the boy, his stepmother's abilities were not inborn and couldn't be passed on or taken away from her in death, so she would not be able to absorb Regina's magic if she took her life. She had to go about this a little more skilfully. Regina had boastfully claimed to know every flaw in the sorcerer's magical armor, having spent years taunting him with her ability to get past his protection spells, so the Evil Queen was in all probability Morrigan's best chance of getting what she was after within the next days.

This dependency now connecting her to the sleeping Queen of Ruins was annoying at best, but necessary to a point, so the raven smoothly morphed back to Regina's likeness. Striding around the room, she swathed herself in a cloak of restraint and self-composure that was normally quite beyond her nature. Soon, she was quite sure that it fitted her comfortably, because the fury beneath it would not seep through. She didn't want to wait until the boy accidentally stumbled out from under the sorcerer's cape one fine day in spring – she wanted that book and its keeper, and she wanted them _now_. If Regina still wasn't willing to help her get what she was after, then she would help herself by learning the Evil Queen well enough to bring her close to the boy without burning her fingers on the sorcerer's protective spells. She had already discovered in the mines that Rumpelstiltskin couldn't strike her a blow that would harm her too badly – but his defensive enchantments were pure genius.

She came to halt beside the bed and glared down at the one person that had years of practice at overriding them. "Rise and shine," she sneered.

At that moment, back in Storybrooke, Killian Jones finally felt as though he could get down off the counter-top without causing himself any serious injuries. He didn't think he could quite sit up yet, so he rolled over slowly towards the edge, meaning to plant his feet on the ground while holding on to the bar. The whole building seemed to be spinning though, and he moved just a little too fast and a little too far, failed to get a hold of anything, and went crashing to the floor heavily pulling down three stools with him. Splintering wood was strewn all over the murky barroom. Groaning woefully, he was sick again, this time owing perhaps to the nasty bump on the head that he'd given himself. He barely had time to wish that he hadn't had that last refill of tequila before he caught sight of a pair of green shoes at eyelevel. The laugh that went with the woman wearing them was clear as a bell, he thought, before he passed out again.

In the ruins of the palace in the Enchanted World, Regina slowly came round as the even more evil being wearing her face sat down on the matrass next to her. Morrigan leaned in to her far too closely and did a perfect imitation of that dissatisfied smile that never reached Regina's eyes. "Now," she started, "are you going to be a good girl and do as you're told?"

XXXxxxXXX

The snowstorm had receded shortly before dawn. Robin and Bae had taken a troop of men out to assess the situation on the field by the forest at first light. It was as they'd thought: there would be no recovering or burying what little the ravens had left behind of the bodies for a while yet. Over three feet of snow had piled up during the night, and there was simply nothing to be done about it.

By chance, rather than expectation, they discovered some forty thoroughly frozen men, women and children who had survived the onslaught and the following night in the woods. Some of them had injuries, others were undercooled, but most were simply terrified. Robin took one look at the pale-faced children, and, after making sure that Bae was thinking the same thing, he decided to bring them all back to the castle.

People were been assembling around the outer gate when they arrived, whispering and craning their necks for a look, perhaps wanting to see if there was anyone left alive that they knew. The crowd parted for Robin, who was leading the way. The wretchedness that encompassed the small ragtag group of survivors behind him prompted an oppressive silence as the refugees wearily made their way through the slushy knee-deep mud on the outer encampment.

David and Snow were waiting for Robin and Bae at the inner gate. Having observed the reactions to the newcomers carefully, they both felt that things could have gone worse. The crowd was dispersing already, and no one had seemed inclined to cast even a single stone or shout one spiteful word. That might have been entirely different if this had still been the exact same world they had grown up in, or even Storybrooke. Snow remembered the graffiti on her car and the hurt it had caused her when she had been the elementary school teacher accused of destroying David's marriage. She thought of the way her neighbors had treated her after she'd been locked up for a murder she hadn't committed, even after she'd been cleared simply because there had been no murder. Or the time George had mobilized half the town against Red. Things so easily got out of hand.

She decided that this morning was a show of hope for them working this and everything else out, and neither she nor David were about to give people any reason to doubt that. She decided to take charge of the refugees herself, and went to speak to Robin about their options for putting up the injured.

Charming listened intently to Bae's concise report on the state of things out on the field, but he was still worried about drawing other kinds of scavengers than those that had picked over the carcasses of George's army already. The huge packs of man-eating wolves roaming the area were sure to be attracted by the smell of demise and the prospect of getting an easy meal out of it, even under all that snow. Passing trolls or ogres would smell the blood. The trolls would keep going, because they weren't interested in battles that weren't their own, but the ogres had it in for humans and were always searching for human settlements to destroy. Though blind and clumsy, they did seem to have returned to some sort of reporting hierarchy and organization in the years since the curse, and they might soon be apt to gathering in greater numbers and make a nuisance of themselves in direct proximity to the castle. Not a good thought, considering Rumpelstiltskin's absence, even though David was aware of the protection spells the sorcerer had installed to ward off magical creatures and magical attacks on the castle. Nothing and no one magical other than Rumpelstiltskin should be able to get past them, but David wasn't sure how they would fare if they were to be penned up in the castle for any stretch of time, surrounded by ogres that would stop them from going into the woods, which were providing them with their main source of food at the moment. They would lose lives every day or starve within a week.

Why _was_ Rumpelstiltskin still gone? David was seeing whole new sides of the man since that last day in Storybrooke, but he wasn't at all sure if the sorcerer of ages could turn over _that much_ of new leaf so fast. It was too good to be true, somehow. He vividly remembered the beastly creature he had made deals with himself once upon a time, but had finally incarcerated in the dungeons of his castle for attempting to take Cinderella's firstborn; the legendary evil that everyone feared, yet so many secretly kept calling upon to for a magical solution to their problems. It didn't matter that he wouldn't be answering anymore now, there was still so much tangible darkness within that it made David skeptical even though they were somehow connected through Henry.

He had been listening to Henry's recounts of what Belle and Rumple had done for him at the mausoleum all of the previous day, and his grandson thought that the Dark One was some kind of hero. Still, who was to say what Rumpelstiltskin would put his mind to when things got out of hand. He had three centuries of practice in looking out for himself, and he was so used to doing his own thing that there was a tiny flicker of doubt in David's mind about Rumple's words in leaving as he turned to head back to the castle with Bae. It was just a hunch based on observation of human nature: what if he was to decide _not_ to return here with pregnant Belle? David knew full well what Belle had been through for the last _thirty years_, and, given the choice, he wasn't sure what he would do if this was about Snow and _she_ were carrying _his_ child right now. Having been in a similarly bad situation when he and Snow had been expecting Emma, he thought that he might even understand.

Once she'd settled the survivors in, seen to it that they were taken care of and spoken to some of them, Snow's mind was on issues that didn't involve ogres or wolves. She'd recognized one of the distressed women she'd encountered as the wife, perhaps now widow, of their neighborhood baker, Harry Beaufort, whose Great Dane was still refusing to leave the snowy meadow. That dog had been heard howling throughout the entire night, and in the end, one of the marksmen on the wall had tried to put it down. She was glad now that he'd failed; Harry's children were about Henry's age, and they had just arrived here with their mother. She would get someone to go and bring that dog in for them if it didn't come by itself anytime soon.

There had been deaths and casualties on both sides when the castle had been stormed by William, and having brought about several of them herself, she was fiercely intent on finding out what had become of George after he had been seen riding off into the forest when the crows had descended on his men. He had abandoned his people to save himself, and those who had admitted to seeing him do so were just as disgusted that fact as she was.

Most of them – those that were well enough to – were free to move about within the caste walls, and Snow could only hope that they would not be ill-treated for simply having trusted in their king to make decisions for them, even if those decisions had been wrong. She and David were trusted to make choices for their people, and they might have to make hard ones in the months to come. She could only hope that they would always make the right ones and would never be misled to mislead in life this badly.

There was no chance of going after George right now with the weather as it was, but once this terrible winter was over, they would search for him and bring him back to face justice. After what he'd set upon them all time and again, the forest wouldn't be big enough for him to hide in, she thought, as she made her way back through the inner courtyard and back to the castle, blinking at the bright sunlight that was slanting at an awkward angle owing to the late winter season.

Snow was barely able to follow the discussion in the great hall as she was sitting down at the table next to David and Bae. Robin was telling him that they urgently needed to organize hunting parties that would go farther into the woods, because they'd already drastically depleted the resources in the immediate area. Her mind was wandering between the events of the past two days, the fate of their newest refugees and their king, and a great amount of concern about Emma, who was struggling to deal with the shock of finding herself in a different dimension and no memory of anyone in it. She still had no idea how they could possibly help her cope with that any better, and she was feeling thoroughly helpless around her since she was here.

After Bae and Robin had agreed on something or other about escorted hunting expeditions, she should have been listening to Ben Varlet, the former Storybrooke livestock veterinarian, who was trying to figure out what on earth they were going to feed to the horses and donkeys they had rounded up by the forest after they'd brought in the refugees. Besides some spoilt silage, which was partly moldy and would have to be thrown out, there was only a small remainder of old hay left in the stables. Instead of focusing on that, she was now worrying about Belle and the baby. It was almost a miracle that Belle hadn't lost the child, she thought. Belle had always seemed so forlorn and fragile in the forest up until a few days ago. How did she do what did now? And how had she managed to return to Storybrooke to help Emma and Henry? She was thinking about all the things she badly wanted to talk to her about when a breathless messenger arrived from the outer wall to tell them that the Dark One and the Lady of the Castle were actually at this very minute on their way through the encampment and heading up towards the inner gate.

Snow was out in the courtyard before anyone else had left the table. Unlike Charming, there had never been a doubt in her mind that they would return. If there was one thing she knew, it was that Rumpelstiltskin never outright lied to people. There was a lot he was not telling, but he never went back on his word. There were things she wanted to tell Belle, and she could even accept that they were a package-deal at this point, but right now, she just needed to see for herself that her friend was alright and simply thank her for what she'd done.

Rumple had had Anam put them down at a safe distance near the south wall. He knew that Belle would not be able to enter the grounds unless he lifted the protective incantation for just a moment to allow them both in. The wards he'd put up simply did not distinguish between the new and, in part, dangerous magic of the Lady of the Castle and the driven dark magic of the Evil Queen, whose wicked impersonation had been trying to break the enchantment half the previous night and was watching them from a distance at that moment, smiling that malevolent smile of hers that never seemed to reach her eyes.

**OOOoooOOO**

**Thank you to the people who take the time to leave a review, really appreciate it!**

**Special thanks again to cynicsquest for putting up with my "loud thinking" and beta-ing for me!**

**Next: The untimely demise of a king, the rude awakening of a pirate****, and the Lady of the Castle trying to find her way...**


	21. Chapter 21

21.

The Evil Queen stood and watched as the outer gates of Dark Castle were closed. She'd been denied entry by Rumpelstiltskin's protections, and there was pure boiling fury beneath her wicked smile. The sorcerer's magic was standing between her and the book, and the sorcerer himself would probably place himself between her and the boy when she'd succeeded in breaking his spells, but she was one of the most powerful beings in this or any world, and she would not be thwarted by minor setbacks. If King George had kept his end of their bargain, none of this would have happened. There was just no working with humans; they were proud, easily deceived, and, above all, _weak_.

She could smell his fear before she could hear him crawling out of the bush somewhere behind her. His horse had shied and thrown him the day before, and he was wet and frozen to the bone, hungry and… weak.

"Regina?" George began, stammering. He was relieved to find someone here that he could still, to an extent, trust. The Evil Queen was out here, and not in there, just as he was. "Regina? There were crows…"

She raised her hand to silence him before she turned. "Frankly, I don't give a damn," she hissed. "We had an agreement, and _you_ didn't keep your end of it."

He was about to answer that he had no idea what she was talking about, but clamped his mouth shut as he became aware of the creeping shadows on her face that presently collected, changed into distinctly curved dark lines and began winding and snaking their way around her malicious eyes, rendering them pitch black. Terror made his bladder ache as the realization dawned on him that this was not Regina, and he started to back away ever so slowly. She followed him at the same pace, stalking him, taunting him, quietly savoring the scent of his acrid, choking dread. He didn't see where he was going and tripped over a fallen branch, tumbled backwards into the snow and realized that he was at the end of his rope. The thing posing as the Evil Queen looked down on him, baring her teeth in a deadly sneer.

"Let me…" he begged, whimpering feebly.

"No," she purred sweetly, cutting him off with a twisting motion of her hand as she clenched it to a fist. "Let _me_."

She inhaled and blew on her knuckles, slowly splayed her fingers and pointed them at him, palm upwards. Blue misty light emitted and swirled all around, growing darker as it drew quickly closer to the horrified, stricken man on the ground. His eyes widened, his breath caught, and he could feel his heart pounding in his throat, as he missed the right moment to get up and run from the darkness that was already swallowing him.

Morrigan took pleasure in watching, relishing the moment, and she didn't feel compelled to conceal her amusement at what remained of the former king once the opaque vapor had lifted. A large, malformed and bewildered toad sat where George had lain sniveling and groveling in the snow. It croaked hoarsely and was about to flee when a heron that perched by the icy stream nearby saw its chance at an unexpectedly fat meal in the midst of winter and swooped in and took him.

"Crows indeed," she scoffed in disbelief. I didn't matter to her in the slightest why George's plan to take the castle and open it to her in the process had gone astray. He'd seemed quite motivated, especially after her promise to let him keep his precious crown and all that went with it once she'd rewritten her story and taken her rightful place. But that was _humans_ for you. They never really applied themselves and tended to lose interest so quickly if something went wrong.

She returned her attention to the noble edifice within the walls and considered the possibilities; new perspectives were fast growing on her. She'd already decided she'd been going about this the wrong way and had wasted her time. There was absolutely no need to break the sorcerer's protective enchantments; she'd just witnessed the way the humans had unquestioningly welcomed the Dark One and his magical wife into their midst. The boy had been stepson to Regina, and he had to have good memories of her somehow; there had to be a connection, or the real Regina would not so adamantly have refused to cooperate. The boy would, without a doubt, invite the Evil Queen right in, now that his memory had been restored. She could just walk up to that gate right now and… no. Patience, she scolded herself. She would leave them a few days to get on with their pathetic lives, bonding and feeling safe enough to open their gates to her. And when they did, she'd have it all.

XXXxxxXXX

A bucket of water rudely thrown in his face brought Hook to his senses on the grubby floor of The Rabbit Hole. Coughing and sputtering, he made an attempt to sit up, but the sunlight slanting in through the open door was much too bright, and he needed one hand free to shield his eyes. The other arm wasn't enough to support his weight, and he sagged pitifully back to the ground before he managed to steady himself.

"Come on," Tinkerbell scolded the sad pile of indigence at her feet, arms akimbo, "get up, you drunkard…"

"What the hell happened to you?" Red inquired as she nudged him with the tip of her shoe, eying him in disgust.

"Yeah, this was a really great idea," Grumpy asserted as he hunkered down beside the pirate, taking care not to touch anything. "He looks like he's gonna be a real help."

Bashful came in next to him and nodded in agreement, taking in the extent of Killian Jones' drunken revelry all around and on Jones himself. "Gee, get that smell…"

Sneezy and Doc bent in more closely for a whiff and a better view, flinched, and shook their heads uncomprehendingly. Doc half turned to Sneezy and raised an eyebrow. "Have you got anything that could… you know, pick him up a bit…?"

Sneezy glanced back at Hook, arched _both_ eyebrows, and shrugged. "Probably won't help much. But I'll see what I can do." As he left to check the pharmacy for some Alka Seltzer, Happy took his place staring down at Hook, who was not only nauseous, but also feeling very crowded. He tried to turn over on his side, but groaned as a fractured rib hampered the attempt.

"Guys? Some air?" Victor Whale requested, closing the door behind himself as quietly as possible, shutting out the sunlight and whatever else he was half expecting to have followed him here. He had a hard time deciding where to put his hands in aiding the goo-encrusted pirate up off the floor.

He finally dismissed better sense and manned up to it, lodged his shoulder underneath Hooks armpit and stood him upright. He soon found that Hook was heavier than he looked and shoved the sorry sailor up against the bar counter, which wasn't a particularly good idea. Within seconds, Jones had eagerly spotted and grabbed at a half-full bottle of earthy amber Jack Daniel's that seemed to be calling his name. Taking it away from the raging man while four dwarves fought to restrain him caused Whale and Tink to add some further bruising to his misery, but at this point, neither of them had any qualms with that. Tink tipped the contents of the bottle down the sink while Whale held Jones in place until Grumpy had fetched a stool to put under his behind.

"Well," Jones commented when he'd finished ranting and grieving at his loss sufficiently to gather himself, taking note of Red's discolored cheek, the adhesive dressing on her brow and her bandaged arm as she sat down beside him, "you don't look like you've been enjoying your vacation very much either, love."

Red smiled wryly. "Let's just say I've come to know a whole new _you_."

Hook had no idea what she was talking about, but he was too busy feeling sorry for himself and nursing his aching head to question her.

Whale found a bottle of water and pushed a glass in front of Jones, pouring him some. "Drink up, you could use this."

"How would you know just what I could use?" Hook mumbled sardonically. All he really wanted was to be left alone. Sneezy appeared at his shoulder, ripped open a packet of Aspirin and poured the powder into Jones' water. Hook pulled a face as he watched it fizz.

"Believe me, you'll want be on your feet when you hear what you've been up to and where you've gone off to," Whale mumbled, rubbing his brow.

Hook still hadn't a clue what he was on about, but he was pretty sure he hadn't been up to anything much since he'd decided to drink himself to oblivion.

XXXxxxXXX

Most of the snow had melted away, and the last few days had been quiet at the Dark Castle. A few more survivors, including a half-dead Harry Beaufort, had been picked up in the woods by Robin's scouts and on hunting trips, but their numbers were dwindling. Some of the refugees who had been seeking shelter on the grounds had left to brave it on their own once again now that the weather was getting better.

After attending to the remains of the soldiers on the field, David led a search party out looking for King George. Robin left with him after Bae declined to go, saying that this was not his battle. Rumple kept his thoughts on that to himself, fairly sure that Robin might be the better choice of companion for David as things were.

Bae wasn't planning on staying for longer than necessary; Rumple could sense that, and though it saddened him, he could well understand that his son would never feel that he'd returned _home_. This castle had never been Bae's home, and he'd made it quite clear that he didn't even consider this world a place worth living in. He was here solely because of Emma and Henry, and not because he was so fond of this part of the woods or his father. Emma's attitude towards him and the way their relationship might evolve was decisive for his next move.

Rumple knew that Bae loved Emma, and he would like to see his boy happy with her. She was honest to a fault and good for him in that she had principles and stuck to them. However, once she managed to recover the memories Regina had taken from her, she might be inclined to tell him to go to hell. In Storybrooke, she'd conveyed very clearly that she felt he'd had hurt her too badly to deserve a second chance. Rumple knew he secretly hoped she'd change her mind. For the present time, she reluctantly relied on Bae to navigate this world, but at least she was spending time with him. He was so obviously happy to be closer to her now that Rumple had tentatively refrained from putting too much effort into restoring her recollections right away, playing time into his son's hands. Just for a few days, he'd told himself. Where was the harm in that?

Whatever his son wanted and chose to do in the end was alright by Rumple – he had meant what he'd told him on their last day in Storybrooke. It was his life, and he had to find his happiness wherever and in whatever way he saw fit. If buying him a few days of being Emma's only reference besides Henry in this strange new world was helping in any way, then he was glad to been able to do that for him. He'd been apt to giving him precious little else in all these years. Besides, he was sure he hadn't been directly hurting anyone by delaying things for just a little while, had he? Well, up to a point.

Things were, in fact, becoming a little awkward in the meantime; the Charmings and Henry were insistent he keep at it, and since he didn't know what to tell them anymore, the sorcerer had been down at his lab in the dungeons for most of the morning, thinking he might be able to copy the potion Blue had made for Sneezy and Belle once upon a time in Storybrooke. He wasn't even sure if Emma really wanted a cure for some, to her, unlikely condition she wasn't consciously aware of, because, subsequently, she didn't believe she'd lost anything in the past year. Given the looks he was getting from David and Snow especially though, he felt it was time he owned up. No one would force anything on Emma if she didn't believe it would help her anyway. She'd have to be ready; _choosing_ to believe and _choosing_ to drink that remedy of her own free will, if and when he succeeded in stirring it together.

He hadn't accomplished the task at hand yet, and right now, he thought he might even be quite some way off from the right combination of ingredients, somehow. He had to put more of himself into any- and everything he did these days, and he hadn't had much time to test and evaluate his attempts so far. Besides that, it was irking him that Belle had already offered to try and repeat the magic she'd performed on Henry to Emma if he failed to make any progress by the end of the day. He was very conscious of the fact that Belle's magic probably stood a better chance of working for Emma than any potion he could cook up on the fly, but he felt uncomfortable at the thought of his wife doing things like that in full view of everybody in this kingdom. It was bound to prompt questions, which was why he'd finally made up his mind to put in an effort and apply himself today.

Just as he was about to set up the second trial run for a new mixture, the door behind him opened a crack. Rumple had his back to it, but he didn't even have to look around to know that it was his grandson peeking in. He wasn't annoyed by Henry's visit; he was simply irritated that he never seemed to get an hour's peace in his own lab. Things had really changed around here since he'd stopped putting about rumors of his affinity for skinning children. "Didn't your mother teach you to knock?" he mumbled.

Henry grinned broadly and slipped inside. "Which one?"

Rumple stopped what he was doing and turned to face the boy, a whiff of amusement outlining the corners of his mouth and playing in the creases around his eyes. He enjoyed Henry's quick wit and humor, noting this as the most prominent difference between Henry and his own son at that age. Bae had been a very serious boy, somber and secretive, carrying and dragging his load. The sorcerer blamed himself for that and was right to do so, but he'd grown to accept that there was no changing the past. Dead was dead, over and done with. There was no going back… but there were new chances.

Henry's trusting and predominantly happier disposition allowed the boy to establish the firm belief that his future was not predetermined or unalterable. He was set on making his way, being exactly _where_ he wanted to be, and endeavoring to become exactly _what_ he wanted to be. That was probably the reason why Henry was standing here with him now, in the Enchanted World, and not lying dead in some alley in New York, relieved of his book and stripped of his talent. Henry was open to changes and movement, was longing for adventure and always seeking challenges. Rumple was convinced that this boy might even be bound for greatness in a way the Shepherd Prince and Snow White could never imagine.

A few days ago on the battlements, the sorcerer had realized that Henry had inert magic, because he could access the book and utilize it to act as a portal. But he'd come to sense that there was more. He couldn't help but wonder to which other places this gift could and would yet take the boy. The things other people only dreamed about would become reality for him, if he wished for it, and there would be no limitations on what he might be able to achieve, depending on his mindset. Rumpelstiltskin had been astounded by this discovery, even though it wasn't improbable by any means. Henry was the son of the savior, who was the product of true love, and Rumpelstiltskin's own son. Bae didn't have any discernable abilities he could readily tap into, much like Rumple, who hadn't known of his own predisposition before he had become the Dark One, but that didn't mean Henry couldn't have inherited magic through both his and Emma's blood.

Rumpelstiltskin would be sure to keep his eye on his grandson from here on in. Not just because there was an evil witch out looking for the boy, but because the world was wide open to Henry, and he might occasionally be in need of a guide to see him across the swamps and deserts. Henry was at the very beginning of a special and charmed life that was destined to leave a mark, and Rumple found himself feeling a tingle of pride whenever he looked at him. It kept springing to mind that this was all the more reason to keep Regina away. There was no need to repeat the same mistakes, and he would make certain that Henry went along his very own path, remaining as uncorrupted and at ease with himself as he was now for as long as he could keep him that way. He would need an open heart to learn to wield his powers in such a way that he would not one day start to make bad choices. Magic was a privilege that could, if the heart was blackened, turn into an affliction, as the sorcerer well knew. He had helped blacken Regina's because she had a talent for destruction, but she would neither ruin nor exploit this boy for her purposes, if he had anything to say about it. He would make certain of it.

"What can I do for you?" Rumpelstiltskin finally asked his grandson.

Henry closed the door inelegantly, one hand clasping the handle, the other hiding something rather large behind his back. "How are you doing on that potion?" he inquired, eyes narrowing the way the sorcerer's own sometimes did when he was saying one thing and thinking another.

Rumple inhaled deeply and momentarily returned his attention to the flask he was holding, wondering at the color of the liquid inside. He was aware of Henry's scrutinizing glance, as the boy watched him observe the red solution go foamy and turn a shade of spoilt cabbage, smelling to match. He indignantly decided it was not what he'd hoped for, admitted yet another defeat and put it down heavily with a sigh. A wave of his hand cleared the messy substance from sight.

"Wrong question, huh?"

"Why are you really down here?" Rumple countered, knowing full well that Henry had heard Belle say she would be seeing to Emma later on.

The boy came up next to him and carefully pushed aside an array of empty beakers and glass droppers. He plopped down the book he'd been concealing on the work surface in front of Rumple. The sorcerer was about to tell him to return it to the vault, where the they had agreed to keep it just the night before, but he remembered having gotten the feeling that the boy had been trying to tell him something even then. He'd had a hunch that Henry just hadn't been willing to talk to him about whatever was occupying his mind with David and Snow there; he'd been waiting for a chance to get him alone. They hadn't been alone since Henry had arrived. He didn't think he'd ever been alone with the boy, since they had never had reason or motivation to seek each other's company before. Not up until now.

"Okay," Rumple said at last, deciding that he was genuinely interested in what the boy had to say, "I'm listening."

Henry smiled and began leafing through the pages until he had found the story of The Seven Ravens. "Look," he exclaimed, pointing at the first picture excitedly. "This was the story that brought me here."

Rumple bent down slightly, eyebrows knitting as he studied the ink drawing of Raven very closely. He couldn't help but wonder what would have made Henry choose this fairy tale over all the others he could have started with instead, but, as he began reading, he could feel the ancient power that was emanating from the colors and words, seeping right through the parchment-like paper and into his hands, flooding his mind. It amazed him, and he reveled in the feeling for the time it took to read the girl's story, which also happened to be his story and that of everyone else who was here with them in this world.

"Awesome, isn't it," Henry breathed as the sorcerer finally looked up at him again.

"That it is," he replied slowly. To him, the most "awesome" thing about it was the unwritten ending. It confirmed what he'd hardly dared hope for: a future wide open.

XXXxxxXXX

Belle and Snow were on their way to the outer encampment. Belle was sure that Rumple would never have agreed to them doing this right now if he'd known, but she would not be imprisoned in this castle. She was his wife now, and she was responsible for the people who lived within its walls.

Martha had excitedly told her that a child had been born here in the early hours of the morning. She and Snow wanted to see for themselves that everything was alright and bring the new mother a few things that might be useful. This baby was the very first to be born in Snow's kingdom since the curse had been cast. They had filled a large basket with bread and apples, a sack of spelt, a bag of salt, jars of honey and some eggs. After some amount of discussion, Belle had let Snow lug the heavy basket, and settled for carrying the soft woven blanket she'd found in one of the chests in the linen room.

"Do you know the family?" Snow asked her cheerfully as they passed the inner gate. Belle nodded, noting that they were being followed by two guards, who had obviously been dispatched to see to it that no harm came to them. She couldn't help but smile, since it had been proved beyond a doubt that they could both take care of themselves.

"They had the video rental back in Storybrooke, didn't they?" she replied.

"Yes," Snow grinned, "the competition."

"There were definitely more people there than at the library most days," Belle chuckled lightly.

"I hear it's a girl," Snow went on. "I wonder what they've named her?"

Belle smiled. She imagined that choosing a name for a new life must be a wonderful task, even though she'd never had ideas for naming a son or a daughter of her own. Until a few months ago, the thought of bearing a child had been so very far beyond her; she'd watched her mother bleed to death in giving birth to a sister that had not lived, and she'd never nourished the notion of having a baby herself. Not even in playing with dolls, as the other little girls around her had been fond of doing when she'd been at that age. But even much later on, when she'd been engaged to Gaston and trying to picture her life as it might be at his side, she had not been capable of envisioning herself with child or in labor. She had never let him touch her; there had never been desire, and it had seemed completely absurd to her that she might conceive a baby with him.

Strangely, her perception had changed when she had met Rumpelstiltskin, who was so different from Gaston and all that her childhood friends would have chosen for themselves, so unlikely a match for her; _much_ older, secretive, so dark and so dangerous – yet electrifying, enrapturing, seizing… She had been drawn to him like a moth to a flame, and he'd confused her profoundly from the second she'd set eyes on him. Her heart had simply overruled her mind which had been setting off all kinds of alarms, but she'd felt his presence claiming her very soul. She'd inhaled his scent as she had stood next to him in her father's hall, and found that she'd suddenly longed to touch him, nearly turning to water when he'd offered her his arm as he'd led her away…

Years – no, _decades_ later, she had been very much aware that she might conceive a child the night Gabriel Gold had taken her to his bed for the first time. She'd been surprised to find that this awareness had heighted her sense of longing for him immeasurably, and she had gently hushed him with a kiss and a touch when he'd started to ask her if she was still sure she wanted him. She remembered never having been so certain of anything in her life, even and especially at the chance of becoming pregnant. But that had been in Storybrooke… where ordinary children were born to ordinary women in well-equipped hospital delivery rooms, accompanied by midwives and doctors.

She'd been troubled by doubts and fears since she'd found herself back in the Enchanted World and with child; it had just been a soft murmuring in the back of her mind at first. After she and Rumple had come back to the castle, however, those murmurs had begun to evolve into paralyzing screams when she was alone with her thoughts. She was bravely standing up to them, but she kept having to tell herself that it would be alright. She hadn't been afraid of raising _a_ child, not even when she'd been faced with having to deal with that task alone back in the forest, but she was scared to death now, knowing what she did.

It was painful to think that she might be giving the baby inside her an unintended sense of her fears. She wanted the child to grow in the certainty that it was wished-for and loved, but she was afraid that she might not go about this the right way, might fail at being strong and… being a mother, in the end. This was something she couldn't tell Rumple or talk over with anyone else. She would have to work it out by herself. She kept telling herself _there was love_, _so there would be happiness for this child._ The right name might be the beginning of it.

"Have you thought of one yet?" Snow inquired.

"What…?"

"You're miles away," Snow stated gently. "Have you thought of a name for your baby? I started thinking about it the moment I was sure I was pregnant. Maybe even before"

Belle considered for a moment, fleeting melancholy tracing the soft lines of her face. "Rumple told me some things about the place where he grew up," she replied. "Names were very important there, they always had a meaning that was meant to be the making of a fate." He'd told her his had destined him to become a spinner – and it had turned into a self-fulfilling prophesy: he'd become a spinner of threads and yarns, gold, bargains and agreements, of dreams, and the most delicately woven orchestration of providence over centuries. "We'll just have to think about it," she concluded. "There's plenty of time, isn't there?"

Snow considered this, stopped in her tracks and put down the basket for a moment. She took the blanket from Belle and put it down over the handle, clasped Belle's hands in her own and searched her friend's eyes attentively. "I'm sure everything will be alright. And you'll choose the perfect one."

She had been watching Belle these past days, sensitive to the hidden sadness within her friend that had never been there in Storybrooke, not even after she'd been released from the closed psychiatric ward. Snow hadn't known Belle before in this world, since Belle had, in her way, been just as much a victim of the Evil Queen's scheming as she had. The young woman had been locked away for the most part of her _life_ for truly loving the dark sorcerer every living being in the Enchanted World been afraid of. Yet she hadn't crumbled, succumbed to self-pity or wavered in her choice of man to love – she'd mustered so much inner strength that she had been able to endure and survive, finding her place in Storybrooke, just as she would here. Thinking back at all David and she had been through when she'd been pregnant with Emma, it didn't surprise Snow that there was something wintry and withdrawn about her friend right now. She wholeheartedly wished Belle well, and she'd been giving some thought to finding a way of letting her know that she was not alone anymore.

Having been somewhere between hopeful and worried for most of the nine months before giving birth in the middle of the apocalypse of their world, she guessed that Belle might be going through the some of the same right now. They were as safe now as they had been then, which was _not very_, but they weren't giving up, and there was hope for their future as long as children were being born into this life. She was sure that Belle was in need of something as good and as happy as the call they were making right now to awaken her to that once again. There was nothing to compare to the pure bliss of holding and inhaling the warm scent of a new-born baby: sleepy, wrinkly and all of wonderful and perfect, a bundle of promise and a moment of stardust imbuing any expecting mother's heart.

Then it came to her; there was something she could do for Belle. When she'd been sure that she was going to be a mother, she'd started imagining the nursery. She'd loved the thought of it, and it had been a great pleasure to envision their little girl in a wooden cradle with soft linings, even though they had been almost sure that she would never sleep in it towards the end. But that was what their hope had been all about: doing it anyway, trusting things to work out for good. There had been a ceiling fresco depicting the moon and the constellations, beautifully embroidered blankets and baby clothes in chests of drawers, a music box and a glass mobile with dainty unicorns over the small bed. Each item of furnishing that had gone into the baby's room had been carefully chosen, and some things had been gifts, while others had been Ava's choice for Snow's own nursery, lovingly restored for them by Geppetto. Shelves filled with cuddly toys and dolls had adorned the walls, and there had been a rocking-chair by the window. Snow felt that Belle could use a large dose of the hope she'd filled her heart with before Emma had been born, and she made up her mind that this was just what she going to get.

**OOOoooOOO**

**Thank you for ongoing encouragement and reviews, I really appreciate the feedback!**

**Special thanks again to cynicsquest, as always… you know it.**

**Next: Emma remembers.****  
**


End file.
